The Woman In the Painting
by TheEternalDaylightingRanger
Summary: Jace Herondale is assigned the murder case of Clarissa Fairchild. Each time Jace thinks he's getting closer to the killer, however, another suspect falls through. And as if he doesn't have enough on his plate, he realizes that he's falling in love with a dead girl! Everything changes, of course, when Clary comes back to her apartment one night...1940s AU
1. Prologue

**I've kind of posted this on a whim and spontaneous choices. I've just had this brilliant idea for a while, and this kind of was the aftermath.**** Loosely based off of the movie and novel "Laura"  
**

**I wish I was amazing enough to own Mortal Instruments, but alas, I am not Cassie Clare, so no.**

Jace Herondale threw his hat on the cushioned chair, sighing as he ran his fingers through his hair. A long day of crime-fighting and detective work really took a drain on his emotions. He had been right-of course he was, he was always right. The Butler had been the one to kidnap Mrs. Blackthorn's daughter, Dru, and held her for ransom to pay for his large debt from gambling.

It only took a week to finish the investigation, which he was grateful for. The case never really held on to his interests. But this new one…it sounded interesting. He picked up the beige folder labeled: Clarissa Fairchild. She was apparently a very top-notch artist for Ads and been murdered last night in her hotel room.

Chief Morgenstern then walked in briskly with purpose. "You've gotten your next assignment, then? Good." Jace preceded to open up the file; it was almost like a well oiled routine his chief and him had figured out; he would solve a case, Chief would say the same thing as always and they'd jump into it immediately. He figured he had always been a favorite of Morgenstern…probably because he was the best in their department.

The file was filled with all the recent doings of Clarissa- letters, Ads she had been working on and finished, and lastly, a brief description of all her most closest friends and advisers. All of them had been in some kind of contact with her in the past two days.

"I want you to check up and question everyone." he touched the paper with the picture of an older man, saying, "This Hodge Starkweather. He's the one that helped Clarissa rise up from a desk job. They've been corresponding for a while. A close friend. Not a very large suspect in the case…but it would be foolish not to try and get some more information out of him."

Jace nodded. He turned the page; this document showed a handsome young man with dark, black hair. "Clarissa's fiancé. Sebastian." he read aloud.

"Yes, and he's the one I've been suspecting more and more whenever I look at him." Chief went around the desk to lean over next to him and propped himself with his elbows, staring intently. "He's lost most of his fortune from his deceased parents by gambling all of it away. Just recently he's somehow come across a large sum money from this woman here-" he pointed to the other page and continued. "She's been depositing money into his account for about two months, and just last week he deposited this time 10,000 dollars in her account."

The woman was beautiful, with shocking big blue eyes and blonde hair. "She's one of Miss Fairchild's closest friends. Kaelie Whitewillow. But there's something odd about them…Make sure to be extra observant when the two of them are together."

"And the last one…"

Morgenstern snorted. "Don't even assume Dorothea. I talked to her earlier. She's not…well…I don't think she's completely there. She's harmless." he waved her out of the way and splayed the three sheets out on Jace's desk. "Focus on these three. We'll come up with more further on in the case."

"This will be interesting." Jace commented, leaning back in his chair with both of his hands clasped behind his neck. He stared at the picture of Clarissa Fairchild. She was gorgeous; vibrant red hair, a petite, trusting face, and the most…captivating green eyes. "Very interesting." he murmured.

**Soooooo...What do you think? Any of you intrigued? Or interested? Jace apparently finds Clary interesting...Hmmm..._very interesting. _**

**-Lau**


	2. The Situation of Mr Starkweather

**Wow! I received a lot of good feedback from you guys already! I'm super excited to continue this, so don't worry that I won't not update...if that makes sense?**

**Extra thank you to all those who have already favorited, followed, and reviewed! You guys are all super amazing!**

**-Lau**

**Chapter 1**

Jace studied the crime scene photos that went along with the folder. The cab driver was hurrying his way to Hodge Starkweather's house like Jace said to. He fingered the old book in his pocket like he always did whenever he felt built up emotions before a case; nervousness, anticipation, but most of all-excitement. It was natural to feel those kinds of things, but Jace preferred not to let his emotions show during his investigation. It usually made a mess of things and left him feeling even more confused.

He flipped to the next picture; they were all quite horrible and bloody-after a shot gun blow to the face within two feet...it was bound to be very awful. This particular picture showed the victim's body. Her hair was dark and drenched in blood from her head and was also soaking the carpet around her. Her body was limp and pale...drained like a pig after its kill. Murder was so inhumane. Why some people took pleasure in committing the crime was beyond him.

The last picture showed her face...or what was left of it, at least. The shotgun blew off at least half her of it. The bloody flesh was no longer distinguishable to Clarissa's petite, beautiful facial features. He shuddered; yes, he could kind of see where her nose used to be. He closed the folder quickly and set it beside him, straightening his posture.

The whole situation of Clarissa Fairchild was devastating; a beautiful, intelligent young woman with such a promising, successful future ahead of her and then...it had suddenly and randomly been ripped from her. Only it wasn't random, he reminded himself. Someone had done this purposefully...and Jace would get the bottom of it. _For her. _If she was half the woman in her reports, then she deserved justice.

"Here, sir."

"Thank you." He paid the driver and got out of the cab, grabbing the folder. Staring at the red, brick building, he took a deep breath and started for the doorway. It was very large for a single man with no family, he noted.

He knocked twice, the white door swinging open almost immediately to reveal a short, balding man with graying hair, probably still in his late forties. "Yes? Can I help you?" he squinted at him.

Jace stepped forward and took out his gleaming detective badge. "Yes, are you Mr. Hodge Starkweather?" The old man nodded, so he continued, "I'm Jonathon Herondale. I'm here and apart of the murder case for-"  
"Clarissa Fairchild, I know." He snapped impatiently. "I don't need any more questions. Can't I be left in peace?"

"I'm sure Clarissa might've been thinking the same thing before she died." He countered, just a bit angry at the man's attitude.

He stared at him for a moment. "Touché." The man said finally. "Clarissa Fairchild...I know full well who she was."

Exactly." Jace replied uneasily, "So I wanted to ask a few follow-up questions on your relationship with Clarissa."

He sighed. "Fine. If it helps you catch her killer faster, then ask away...But come inside where you can be comfortable."  
Jace followed him into the antechamber and up a flight of steps to a large living room. Mr. Starkweather sat down on a couch and began making himself comfortable, while Jace studied the room. The collection of all the antiques made it obvious to what he did in his free time. His fingers brushed over fine, china plates, golden trinkets, and the wood of a large, Grandfather clock.

"Don't touch that!" he cried. "There are only two of them left!"

He held up his hands. "Sorry, sir." He threw his hat on the chair and sat on the arm, across from where Mr. Starkweather was sitting, occupying himself with some kind of hot beverage. Jace flipped open the folder, pretending to look it over once. He practically already memorized the whole thing from front to back; he really was trying to make the man across from him nervous...or feel any emotion at all.

"In here, it says that the last time you saw her-"

Hodge interrupted him, picking up a few pages of paper. "The last time I saw Clarissa Fairchild was the night before last, at a French diner outside town. We'd been discussing her marriage that was unwisely scheduled just next week and..."  
"Is it really necessary to type out your alibi?" he cut in. "Worried that you'll forget it?"

"No..." he spluttered. "No...I just wasn't sure if you had it written down somewhere."

"Mhmm." He pretended to write something down in his small notebook.

"Alright! Just ask the questions and go!"

Jace held back a smirk; he'd succeeded in getting under his skin. "Like I said," he tried not to show his smugness, "you were having dinner and you'd been discussing her future marriage to Sebastian Verlac. But she left earlier than planned and apparently went back to her hotel room. But you didn't see her anytime afterwards?"

"No." he shook his head. "Although, she was acting very strangely. Clarissa wasn't very sure on her engagement with Sebastian, and she said that she was meeting up with him right afterwards."

"So you believe that Sebastian was most likely the one to kill her." He stated plainly.

"Yes." He answered slowly. "That is what I think."

"Interesting." He replied, pretending to be bored, when he really wasn't. In fact, everything about this case kept him alert and entertained, at best. "I just have one more question for you."

"Hm?" Mr. Starkweather pushed himself up and began to walk around the room, admiring his collection.

"Two years ago in the column you write for the newspaper, you wrote on the Lovelace murder."

"I did, didn't I? I wouldn't have guessed that you, of all people, would read."

"Forced to, actually." he waved the file in the air. "I wouldn't actually read the newspaper willingly."

Mr. Starkweather snorted. "All you young people are the same...Well, I'm assuming you didn't bring up my job for nothing?"

"No," Jace stood up, following him into the next room; his bedroom, "Anyways, the Lovelace case...You wrote," he referred to the file then, "that she was killed with buck shot, which was the same bullet that was used in _this_ murder."

"And why does this matter?" the man began fixing his tie in his mirror, adjusting his suspenders.

"Miss Lovelace wasn't killed by buck shot...she was stabbed."

"Oh...well...my story was more interesting anyway." He turned around, walking up to Jace and getting in his face. He assumed Hodge was trying to look threatening, but was failing pathetically, due to the fact that he was at least five inches shorter than Jace.

"But you can see where it's suspicious?"

"You are a very observant and young, Jonathan. I think I remember you from the newspaper; you were shot in the ankle during a gang fight and the doctors couldn't get it out. But your skin healed over it eventually...And now you have a silver ankle."

"Not really. Bullets are made of lead, not silver." Jace was unwilling for the man to try and understand him. He was supposed the one to understand _him_.

Yes..." he stumbled before straightening again. "Yes, I knew that. It sounds much better after you gloss up the tale a bit."

"Yes. I suppose it does." Jace said.

"You suspect me." It wasn't a question, more of a statement.

"Yes." He answered. He saw no point in hiding it.

"Well...You'd be a fool not to."

"And as you can see, I'm no fool." Jace smiled and sat down, pulling out his book and began to read.

"Excuse me?"

"Hm?" he looked up.

"What...what are you doing?"

"Reading." He answered as if it were obvious. "I do like to read novels, just no newspapers."

"And what...Ah...Dickens. I never had much patience for him."

Jace lifted his old copy of _A Tale of Two Cities. _"I suppose if you actually tried, you'd enjoy his writing very much."

"Yes...maybe." Mr. Starkweather snorted. "I don't see that coming up in the near future."

Jace couldn't help but catch an underlying meaning in his words; did he mean he didn't have much patience for anything? Or was he just overthinking everything as usual? "Yes...well. That's all. Good day." He turned to leave when the older man stopped him.

"Wait...can't I come along with?"

"And why would you want that?" he asked slowly, eyes narrowing.

"Murder is my favorite crime."

"That's an interesting thing to say after your friend was _murdered_." Hodge frowned at the word friend. "Unless you weren't _just_ friends..." Jace chewed on his tongue, trying to figure out Mr. Starkweather through his facial expressions. It was quite hard, actually. The man must've been used to hiding most of his emotions.

"What are you trying to say?" Hodge snarled quickly.

"Were you in love with Clarissa Fairchild?" they seemed like a very unlikely pair, but the world was an odd place. One could never know. "Did she love you?" he almost laughed at the thought of such a lovely woman actually caring for such a sleazy, hawkish old man.

"Clarissa thought me one of the most interesting men alive-"

"You didn't answer my question."

"You've never met a woman like her before in your whole life...and I can tell that you've probably known a few-"

"And what does my life have to do with yours...or Clarissa's?"

He sighed. "She also thought me as the gentlest, kindest, and most compassionate man she'd ever met."

"And were you?" Jace asked, very uninterested in whatever Hodge Starkweather had come up with to make himself feel better. A girl like Clarissa Fairchild didn't fall in love with men like him...but men more like...Jace. Yes, he could imagine it. Her with him. It made perfect sense...if not for the only fact that she was...well, _dead_.

"A man can only try."

"Yes, he can." He agreed, getting up to leave. "And why not? Come along. I'm meeting Kaelie Whitewillow at the hotel and then combing over Clarissa's room again." he needed to keep an eye on him, anyway. If there was one thing that he was sure of after meeting with the man, it was that he didn't trust Hodge Starkweather.

**Hmmmm...So we met the first suspect. The next chapter will introduce the other two.**

**Please leave your thoughts and deepest suspicions in the review box below.**

**-Lau**


	3. The Situation of Kaelie Whitewillow

**Hello everyone! So this chapter took a while to get out, but nevertheless, it happened! I won't be able to update for the rest of the week due to this three day volunteer thing for a homeless shelter for my church, so I won't be able to write anything for a couple days. It starts on Thursday, so that gives me time to update my other story, Stele Arts Academy before I leave and come back on Sunday. So no chapter until another week. So don't tell me to update because I will, you don't have to worry. **

**Also, thanks to all this amazing support already on the second chapter! This is crazy awesome guys! You are all completely amazing! The reviews, favorites, and follows have really made my past few days whenever I see somebody add TWIP to their list. It's fantastic! Keep it up everyone!**

_**P.S. I realized I never really elaborated on the time period, and I haven't really put forth any indication of whether it is present or past….So I'll just tell you. This is centered in the late 1940s. 1948 or 1949 I believe.**_

**-Lau**

"I'd just like to ask a few more follow-up questions."

The woman sighed, opening the door wider for Jace and Mr. Starkweather in. "Fine…Your name?"

"Mr. Jonathan Herondale, and this is-"

"I know plenty well who Hodge is, Jonathan, but thank you anyways." She only narrowed her eyes at Hodge before smiling coyly at Jace. "Questions?"

Jace cleared his throat, looking down at Kaelie's page and notes. "Yes…um, let's see…." he stumbled. Kaelie was beautiful in a very distracting way that unnerved him.

"Here, how about we sit down?" Kaelie locked the door behind him before taking his arm, her fingers digging into his skin as she led Jace to her very large living room, setting him down in the chair opposite of hers.

He didn't like this woman particularly. Kaelie was leading everything. _But he was in charge_…especially during interrogations. Hodge habituated in the corner; Jace could feel his studious eyes on him, calculating and evaluating him.

"You were good friends with Clarissa?"

"Every since school." she clasped her hands in her lap, crossing her legs. She smiled fondly at him, probably remembering some distant memory from a long time ago.

"And so you know Sebastian Verlac? Clarissa's fiancé?" Jace noticed the tightening of her jaw and hands, and strained smile forcing to replace the previous at the mention of Sebastian's name.

"Sebastian? Yes, of course I know him. I'd be an awful friend if I hadn't met her soon-to-be-husband." she smiled with strained.

"Mhmm." he pretended to scribble away on his notepad, causing Kaelie to clear her throat, whether from nerves or annoyance, he wasn't sure. "Did you know Sebastian before Clarissa introduced you two?"

"What does Sebastian have to do with Clarissa's murder?" she reasoned, "I don't see how any of this relevant."

"Trust me, Ms. Whitewillow, it has everything to do with Clarissa." he smirked. "I'm the one who asks the questions, and you answer. It doesn't work the other way around."

She stared at him, her big, blue eyes widening when she realized. "Do you suspect me? _Me?_" she asked incredulously.

"At this point in the investigation, everyone is a suspect."

"What?" she jumped from her seat, pacing back and forth.

From the corner, Hodge was smirking, his arms folded over his chest. "Don't worry, Kaelie, he suspects me as well."

She stopped her pacing, staring at Hodge before turning her attention back to Jace. "Don't even think it was Hodge." she sneered, bending down closer to his ear, giving him a full view down her flowing shirt, which he averted his eyes away from immediately. "He was too in love with Clarissa to even think of killing her."

He nodded slowly, Kaelie straightened, returning to her seat.

"Do you have any more questions for me, then?" she folded her arms, glaring at Jace.

"Yes, actually. One more."

"Alright, then. Ask it."

"You and Sebastian Verlac have been exchanging money for months now."

"Yes." she agreed. "What of it?"

"What have you been paying him for? Or even better…What is he paying you _for?_"

"Are you suggesting?…That he's paying me for-"

"I didn't say anything, Ms. Whitewillow, so you can take it however you want to. All I'm asking is why you're giving him money."

"I let him go shopping for me."

"Every week?" When she didn't say anything and glanced out the window, he asked, "Did you approve of Sebastian and Clarissa's engagement?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she challenged. But he saw through her weak façade of poise and aloofness. Kaelie immediately turned off any feeling or expression whenever Jace mentioned Sebastian and Clarissa together.

He couldn't stand that smug face anymore, so Jace asked the first thing he knew would get under her skin. "Are you in love with Sebastian Verlac?"

Her reaction was very satisfying.

Kaelie began spluttering, her cool and superior demeanor vanishing almost instantly. "No! No…Why would I…How dare you accuse me of…you think…How could you even … I let you into my home and you accuse me of murdering my best friend!" her hands shook as her temper flared. The truth about Kaelie's feelings seemed obvious since the moment Jace walked in her apartment, but her saying it aloud just proved his theory that he was always right.

Jace struggled hold back a smirk. "No, I accused you of being in love with your best friend's fiancé." he stood up, circling Kaelie from where she stood frozen. "Which is very obvious that you do…" he added offhandedly, letting her know of his confirmations, "But the real question is…Is Sebastian in love with _you?_ Did your romance actually go beyond unrequited love?" he stroked his chin in a mock contemplative expression.

While he circled her, Jace noticed her clenched fists, tense jaw, and flaming eyes. She wasn't very good at hiding her emotions, or keeping them in, in that case. She could've snapped easily in a moment of pure jealousy and killed Clarissa to be with Sebastian…It seemed very likely-possible, even. And Kaelie seemed like the kind of person who was very used to getting what she wanted. At any costs.

The front door opened and banged shut, a man shouting, "Kaelie! I'm here! How's-" he cut off, staring in shock at the scene before him. Kaelie plopped down on her couch then, her eyes screwing closed in defeat and rubbed her forehead.

"Ah! Mr. Verlac, I believe?" Jace went to meet him, grasping his hand firmly and shaking it.

Sebastian's eyebrows furrowed, staring past Jace's shoulder at Kaelie. "And you are?"

"Jonathan Herondale. Detective."

"Oh." he said. "You're with the police?"

"Obviously."

"Well…I came here to escape all those reporters in my room. I can hardly think with all their questions."

"You can hardly think in almost any circumstance." Hodge muttered loudly.

"Do you do this often, then?" Jace asked casually, ignoring Hodge's snide comment and gesturing to Sebastian and Kaelie.

"Sorry? What do you mean?" Sebastian frowned, his dark brow furrowing.

"You two obviously are good friends, I'm assuming." Jace smiled good naturedly at the two of them. Sebastian just looked even more confused, while Kaelie refused to acknowledge his existence, taking sips from a beverage she'd gotten for herself. She obviously understood what he was trying to get at "Well, if you have a key to Ms. Whitewillow's apartment, you two obviously must be _very_ good friends, if you visit so often, Sebastian."

"I don't…I'm not sure..." Sebastian finally cleared his throat. "I think you're taking this the wrong way Mr. Herondale. Kaelie and I aren't…no, I l_oved_ Clarissa. I would never even think about betraying her."

"Mhmm." Jace murmured.

"You don't sound convinced." he stated cautiously.

"I don't, do I?" Jace smiled easily, but inside he wanted to pound the guy in. Sebastian's supposed love of his life was just murdered, and here he was, with Clarissa's best friend, in her apartment just barely two days later. If he was in Sebastian's place, engaged to a woman like Clarissa…why, he'd be devastated. How Sebastian could even look at another woman, much less correspond like he had with Kaelie, was beyond his comprehension of human nature.

"Well, Sebastian never really has been good at convincing people." Hodge said smugly.

"At least I never had to convince Clarissa of my love." he retorted. "I had courage to tell her, unlike some people." Sebastian shot a glance at Hodge, who's neck reddened immediately.

Hodge began shouting then, jabbing a finger at Sebastian's chest, glaring menacingly at him, "Well, I'll never-"

Sure that the shouting match would escalate into a fight, Jace yelled at them. "Listen! This is an interrogation, not a rink to fight out your anger!" Hodge scowled, slinking back to his previous corner, while Sebastian glared at Jace. Then he said calmly, "I understand you're all grieving, but I'm just trying to give this woman some justice. I'm sure that's what you all want as well- for Clarissa's murderer to pay for their crimes." he explained cautiosly to them, "But this is not helping me get anywhere in the case. So if you could all calm down, not talk, or…something. I don't know. Just don't get in my way when I'm trying to do my job. Because I will catch the killer, I can assure you all. I just need some time."

Jace cast his eyes around the room, catching everyone's expressions. This was the most important part of his comments; their reactions. Kaelie was nervously glancing at Sebastian, trying to catch his eye, while Sebastian was staring at his hands, his head bowed. But their gazes matched when Jace glanced at Hodge. The older man's expression was one of calm and peace.

**So now that you've met three of the suspects, what do you think? Who's thinking Hodge? Or Kaelie? Or Sebastian? Anyone think it's not any of them? Just give me your thoughts. I'm going to try and respond to everyone's reviews for now on. Just because you guys are all so awesome and I love you all a lot for reviewing! They do literally make my day!**

**-Lau**


	4. The Situation of Sebastian Verlac

**Wow! So many reviews! You guys are fantastic! A lot of people have many different opinions...Some think it was Hoge, while some believe it's someone else entirely. A lot of you are guessing theirs some kin of relationship between Kaelie and Sebastian, so a LOT of you suspect one of you two. It's interesting to see you guys guess.I wish i could respond to you guests, but all I can do is thank you!  
**

**Also...I'm very sorry that I reviewed my own story...it was actually my sister in the wrong account...so no I don't compliment myself...that'd be really weird.**

**-Lau**

"This is ridiculous! What motive would I have to kill Clarissa?" Sebastian exclaimed once the initial shock was over. "We were perfectly happy. Our marriage was going to be next week, actually, you know." Sebastian informed Jace, desperately trying to claim his innocence.

"No…you didn't know." Hodge interrupted, stepping into the conversation. "Nor did I, or anyone else alive. Clarissa herself was going to leave for her mother's country house to think the whole thing over. Clear her head, so to speak. We have no idea whether or not Clarissa was actually going to marry you."

"You just want to think that." Sebastian snarled, before composing himself. "I'm sure you've heard losers whine before, Mr. Herondale, especially with your profession?"

Jace only nodded, watching the argument between the two with a covered interest. In Sebastian's words, Hodge was the loser, and he the winner, claiming the prize of Clarissa like she was an object. After countless hours studying and researching the young woman, Jace believed Clarissa had much more dignity to be treated like that. Perhaps she hadn't loved either of them while she still lived. This thought for some reason lifted a weight in his chest that made him feel lighter.

Jace shook his head. "I must leave now, gentlemen. I have other things I have planned for today." Kaelie got up from her spot on the couch and stood next to Sebastian to see him out.

"You should stay for lunch. Kaelie can order-"

"Always the perfect host." Hodge cut in, "Almost like he was in his own home."

"It's fine." Jace ignored Hodge's snide comment. "I do have other affairs more important than lunch."

"Oh." Sebastian said. "I just thought you might want to ask me a few more questions before you left."

Jace sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "Alright. You went to The Iron Sister symphony the night of Clarissa's murder, am I correct?" Sebastian nodded. "What two songs did they play?"

Sebastian's brow furrowed. "Um, Beethoven's Ninth and Brahms First, I believe."

"Uh-huh." Jace replied skeptically. "Tell me, did you have a key to her country house?"

"No…But I do think she had one in her room upstairs."

"Alright. Thank you Ms. Whitewillow for your hospitality."

"Wait!" called Sebastian.

Jace turned away from the door. "Yes?"

"Can I come and help you?"

Jace sighed again. "Why not?"

* * *

Jace nodded to Jonathan who was waiting outside the door to the room. Jonathan threw him the keys, passing him and telling him. "You're on guard duty till I get back."

"Alright." Jace half smiled. He figured he'd be there for a while, anyway.

Jace turned the key into the lock of the white door. Hodge and Sebastian seemed to hover around his shoulder. Jace opened the door, entering Clarissa's living place. It was spoke of rich and success, but what really was on his mind was the entry way. "The doorbell rang." he muttered, pointing.

"What?" Sebastian asked, dumfounded.

"And then she got up and answered it." Jace walked past the threshold slowly, trying to relive the scene. He closed his eyes, pretending to see Clarissa's elegant figure sashay to the door and open the door. Her large green eyes would widen impossibly at the sight of the gun, and then she'd make a small gasp in a voice that he could only make up. Before she could move, or run, the person fired. "The murderer shot her point blank and her body fell backwards right here."

Jace glanced around the living area "But the shot was heard immediately. The person had to know that Clarissa's servant, Dorothea, was just a room over next to hers. So they hid the shotgun somewhere in the hotel. The weapon is too large to carry around and try to hide from someone."

"I thought this was the first time you've been up here?" Hodge questioned, walking into the room.

"I saw the photos from the crime scene."

"Well I best find those keys." Sebastian offered, patting his coat pockets and left into a Clarissa's study.

"I don't know why you police men need to take pictures of ladies like that." Hodge grumbled.

"A doll doesn't care about what she looks like when she's dead." he replied sarcastically.

"Don't call her a 'doll!'" Hodge purpled. "Clarissa was much more than that."

"Mhmm." Jace hummed nonagreeably.

The older man sighed in exasperation and annoyance. "Look around you. Does this look like a place where a 'doll' would live?" Hodge scowled. "Look at her." he gazed with awe and admiration at a large painting of a beautiful woman over the fireplace.

Jace allowed himself a glance. She stared back him seductively, lips curved in a knowing smile, Clarissa's green eyes sparkling at him with humor like she knew something he didn't. She wore a tight fighting black dress in the portrait, the back dipping low and the front showing just a hint of breast that wasn't considered highly indecent, but definitely not innocent.

Jace cleared his throat quietly. He put on his cool, calm exterior again, replying, "Not bad."

Hodge made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. "The painter was in love with her when did that…Mr. Herondale, if you had seen her when she was alive…" he sighed. "She was perhaps the most interesting person you'd ever meet."

"Who was the painter?" Jace asked offhandedly, not wanting to hear about Clarissa from him, or really anyone. Anyone else's input on how she was threw off the image he'd created for her, much like he did for other murder cases.

"Simon Lewis." Hodge answered. "He could never capture her warmth...or her kindness, though." Hodge glanced over at Jace, who had returned to searching for the key.

Hodge stayed just behind Jace the rest of the time, trying the threatening method Hodge thought worked. Jace tried not to be annoyed with the older man and chose to ignore Hodge's attempts of getting his attention. He switched on the nearest lamp and rifled the through the desk drawers, all filled with papers covered in drawings. He glanced through them, smiling at a few. They must've been brainstorm ideas for ads in the newspaper and stores, because while they promoted a product, most of the words she scribbled down next to it bagged on it, some drawings completely scribbled over and crossed out.

Hodge turned red, angered for an unknown reason to Jace. "I this really helping us find the key?" he growled impatiently.

"Maybe." Jace grinned easily. "At least it's keeping me entertained."

"Well, it's not in the study." Sebastian walked in then, hands shoved in his trousers.

"Where else might it be?" Jace asked, ambling to the record player, placing the needle on the track. It began to play a sweet melody, but mysterious and darker with the harmony.

"Turn that off." Hodge snapped.

"It was Clarissa's favorite." Sebastian explained. "Not very popular or classical, but it suited her best, don't you think?"

"You know a lot about music?" Jace asked, moving into her bedroom.

"I know a little about a lot of things." Sebastian grinned charmingly.

"Then you'd at least notice that the band didn't play Beethoven or Brahm, but Mozart the whole night due to a last minute switch."

"Oh…" Sebastian pulled his hands out of his pockets and rubbed the back of his neck. "You see, about that...I actually fell asleep the moment the first note played. You see, Clarissa and I had been working late into the night before with a campaign ad, so I slept the whole time, sir. I know it sounds suspicious, but I can only tell you the truth."

"It's understandable." Jace waved it away. "I've fallen asleep in many concerts before as well. I can't altogether blame you." Jace chuckled.

"Oh, you can't really believe him, do you?" Hodge retorted, glaring accusingly at Sebastian.

"That's my decision on whether or not to trust any of you." Jace said. He pulled out his book from his pocket, picking up from where he last left off, sitting down on her bed. Only he realized this was _her_ bed. _She_ had slept on it every night, probably curling up with a sketchpad and pencil…And then he couldn't read.

"It might be in here somewhere." Sebastian said to no one, going immediately to the bed side table and going through the three drawers. In the third one, he held a small key up triumphantly. "Here it is!" he cried.

"You know…" Jace drawled slowly, placing his book on his lap. It wasn't like he was actually reading it. He was much too focused on another thing… "The police are very thorough in their inventory and reports…that key wasn't there last night, was it?"

Sebastian gulped, wringing his hands together. He didn't say anything, so Jace continued. "Did you put it there?" he asked calmly.

"Yes." Sebastian replied immediately. "Yes, I did put it there."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I had no intention of giving it to you while _Mr. Starkweather _was here." Sebastian spat Hodge's name. "I have private reasons."

"Oh?" Jace said. "Why?"

"I have my reasons." Sebastian restated, his face hardening and tossed the key to Jace, staring defiantly at Hodge. "What is Clarissa's isn't any of _his_ business." he snarled.

"I have every right to know about any information on Clarissa!" Hodge's neck reddened as he took a threatening step forward. "And it's becoming very obvious to me on who killed her!'

"Hodge…I'm warning you…Stop implying I had anything to do with Clarissa's death." Sebastian commanded quietly and dangerously.

"Fine then." the older man folded his arms across his chest. "I'll make a _direct statement_."

Sebastian smiled and shook his head, taking a threatening step towards Hodge, who flinched. "You really shouldn't have said that, old man-"

Jace sprung up from where he was sitting and stood between the two men. "I wouldn't." Jace warned lowly. Sebastian relaxed and tugged on the collar of his long trench coat, taking a step back.

Jace opened up his book, reading the next few lines. "Would you stop reading that stupid book?" snapped an enraged Hodge. "It's getting on my nerves how randomly you read that thing."

"I know." Jace smirked and put the book in his coat pocket. "But it keeps me calm…Alright, let's go. Jonathan should be back now."

**I don't like the spot I left it at, but I'm just glad I got it done today! So didn't anyone's suspicions change? Any new guesses on what really happened to Clarissa? Some weird-Clace-dead-girl-feelings came up, which only increase as chapters go on. And then we'll actually and finally have them talk face to face! UGHH I CAN'T WAIT TO WRITE THAT! Anyone have any ideas on what Sebastian meant by "private reasons?" **

**I'm not sure when I'll update again, but I think by the end of the week is the earliest I'll post.**

**Also...I'm thinking of starting a new story again! I'm not sure when, but I want you guys' opinion on my new idea and whether or not you'd read it...okay, imagine this...A superhero/vigilante hero guy as Jace (kind of like Batman and Spiderman thing going on) He gets injected with a thing that I won't reveal yet in a way I won't reveal yet either, and it enhances all his abilities...he's faster, stronger, and smarter...and he's fighting crime in a city...and of course there's more to it but I don't want to give anything else away!**

**-Lau**


	5. The Situation of Male Dinner Dates

**NO, I did not fall off the planet or get abducted by aliens...I've just been busy. I was out in the middle of the wilderness for a whole week, so a Zombie Apocalypse could've happened, and I wouldn't have known. And this whole week I was at band camp all day everday...yes it sucked. So I can't tell you how relieved to say that I'm back! I was going to have this chapter longer, but it would've taken a really, really long time. And I thought you deserved the reassurance and chapter to see what will happen next!**

**Please enjoy!**

**-Lau**

Jace pulled out Clarissa's file for what seemed like the hundredth time. He'd gone over the suspects over and over for hours, it felt like. But what kept Jace coming back to that folder was the small, brown, leather-bound book. In the front cover it read, "Property of Clarissa Fairchild" in fancy cursive letters. The rest of it was filled with a sloppy scrawl, filling each lined page until about three quarters through, where it stopped abruptly.

Jace was nearly finished with the journal, stuck on the day before she died. Something stopped him from reading any more than a few lines. Perhaps it was because reading her last thoughts in this life seemed like a very precious privilege that maybe he didn't deserve.

But now, after meeting all the suspects, Jace had the feeling maybe that he should definitely read her last entry, maybe reveal something that others were hiding. So flipping open the little book open, Jace began reading:

"I feel utterly exhausted today. I've had just a little time to write, so it may be short because I can barely keep my eyes open. In short, I will give you a small and brief overview of today's happenings and maybe my feelings will extend today's entry. This morning around 9 AM I headed off to work, where Sebastian and I tried to finish an advertisement that was due last week.

It's the one with Aline Penhallow promoting a dress store and Sebastian had to take a few pictures of her and such. Which he still hasn't finished despite meeting about three or four times with her, much to my annoyance. But then we mostly got caught up on talking about wedding plans and such, so Sebastian has to meet up with her one more time while I'm gone.

I feel that talking about next week will make it seem a lot more real. Because so far this whole engagement has drifted by me like a dream. For a while, I wondered if Sebastian even cared for me, but now I know that he loves me. Why else would he pull through with the wedding?

I tell Hodge this all the time, and he always describes him as "a slimy gold-digger." But he is just blinded with jealousy, and so I forgive him. He doesn't like that less and less attention is being given to him, and more is for Sebastian as our wedding day approaches. Sebastian and Hodge still have the burning hatred toward each other since the very beginning, which at times makes me sad since both are so important in my life. Sebastian constantly says Hodge is trying to steal me away from him, and Hodge always says that Sebastian is cheating with Kaelie.

But I know that to be untrue. Kaelie is perhaps one of my best friends, why would she betray me like that? Even if they did date occasionally before he met me…Ugh…I'm becoming paranoid again. I think Hodge is planting seeds of uncertainty in the back of my mind. I should stop listening to him about Sebastian, but at times I can't help myself. I don't know what's wrong with me. At times, I intensely feel like I want to marry Sebastian, and other times I want to run away. Maybe live somewhere far in the country, where I know no one.

Perhaps that's the reason why I've made a decision to hide out in my mother's old country house for a few days. Clear up any discouraged thought or hesitancy I may feel toward marrying Sebastian. I think maybe it'll work. But I'm not altogether entirely sure. I can always call off the wedding for another few weeks if need be, so I have no rush or conflict with the decision.

So after Hodge and I's usual dinner date, I will attend the concert with Sebastian and then leave right after. So I won't have time to write until I get back. Goodnight!

-Clary

Jace stared as he riffled through the rest of the pages, feeling a sense of emptiness. Again, he felt that overwhelming sadness that this girl's life had been cut in half, a miniscule existence. The rough cover tickled his hands lightly as he sat back. He replaced the journal with his old Tale of Two Cities and began reading from where he left off at. Sighing, he set down the small book as the telephone began ringing.

Jace answered, Hodge's voice resonating from the other end. "Detective Herondale?"

"Yes, that's me." Jace felt like sighing again. He was hoping to have a short break from the case. Today had been too long and exhausting.

"I calling to ask if you'd like to have dinner with me?"

Jace coughed into his fist once, trying to choke back a spurt of laughter. "Sorry sir, not really interested."

He could almost see Hodge's face purple. "I didn't mean that!" Hodge snapped. "I wanted to talk about Clarissa."

This caught his attention immediately. "Where?"

* * *

Jace left his coat with the hostess, finding Hodge in a corner in the back of the restaurant.

"Good Afternoon, sir."

Hodge nodded, staying quiet until a waitress received their order. The silence was mildly uncomfortable, Jace's hands and feet fiddling underneath the white tablecloth. When Jace was bored, he usually studied others; their behaviors, habits, fancies, and random tendencies. The young woman across from sitting with a a man kept dropping her hand bag, disappearing underneath the tablecloth repeatedly from clumsiness or nervousness, Jace wasn't sure. Only the man didn't seem to mind so much as her ruffled shirt dipped low each time she bent. Jace smirked a little.

And then his attention was diverted to one man arguing with another, waving their hands frantically at each other. Normally he wouldn't have focused on the scene since it was so regular, but each time the sleeve of their jacket would precariously whiz past the candle in the middle of the table and Jace was looking forward to watching one of their arms go up in flames, only-

"This was our table." Hodge said so abruptly, Jace jumped.

"Sorry?"

"Clarissa and I always had dinner here on Friday night." Hodge explained.

"Oh...Is that why-"

"Why we're here, yes." Hodge studied him wearily, "This table is where it all began really." He tapped the wood fondly, and Jace felt like he was walking in on a happy reunion that he wasn't invited to. Which was odd thing indeed to feel when it was between an old man and a wooden table.

Jace sat back in his chair, crossing his ankles. "I'm guessing you asked me to come here for something more than your unrequited love story."

Hodge ignored the taunt and narrowed his eyes. "I believe this story will be most beneficial to you out of all others."

"Oh, really?" Jace's eyebrows rose.

"Yes." Hodge replied calmly, clasping his hands in front of him. "I think it will perhaps reveal...no, unveil the killer."

"And if it doesn't?" Jace replied, unimpressed with whatever Hodge had to say.

He frowned. "Then you will at least look at the case with a different perspective."

Jace nodded, waving his hand lazily for Hodge to begin. "Then let it unveil."

T**he whole next chapter will be a flashback in Hodge which, I know, doesn't sound very interesting, but trust me, it will...We'll also see the first-SPOILER! Forgot. Can't tell you that. Whatever. It'll be in the next chapter anyways. There'll be a lot of firsts in that chapter at least.  
**

** So please leave your feedback on whether or not you theories have changed, what Hodge will be recounting in the next chapter, what you think about Clary's journal entry...even how I'm an awful author who's very inconsistent in her updates?**

**-Okay, because I feel the need to record this moment, there is a baby toy from my siblings acting up right now and I'm kind of freaking out since I'm the only one awake downstairs and it's super dark and scary and mysterious noises are coming from that room...it keeps saying "Let's play!" in this really weird monotone voice that is so disturbing...why would anyone make that kind of toy?**

**-Lau**


	6. The Situation of a Flashback PART 1

**I updated again! Within a week too! I'm happy with this chapter. But it is a bit odd how I did the whole flashback thing. It's in the POV of Clary, not Hodge,which I thought would be more interesting for the rest of you all. Now here it is, as promised, the FIRST time we have Clary in the story! YAY!**

**And might I add...HOLY CRAP GUYS THE AMOUNT OF FAVORITES AND FOLLOWS FOR JUST 5 CHAPTERS...Just wow. You guys are amazing and I virtually send my love to every one of my readers. You guys are crazy awesome!**

**-Lau**

Clary tapped her foot, the white tablecloth covering up her nervous tick. The manila folder on her lap was held on tightly by her damp palms. The edges were wrinkled from her perspiration, so she willed herself to stop gripping the ad like it was a life line. Clary's friends surrounded her, laughing and unaware of their friend's severe anxiety.

Clary felt her heart beat increase and thunder loudly as she stood up, several of the other girls giving her thumbs up. Her closest friend, Kaelie, was the only one to stand up, giving her a hug and whispering in her ear, "You'll blow it out of the water. He'd be a fool to not endorse it."

Clary only smiled weakly and released her dear friend. "I hope you're right."

Kaelie's brilliant blue eyes danced warmly, patting her shoulder reassuringly. Clary could feel her heart rate decrease as she made the long, dreaded walk over to Mr. Starkweather, sidling in-between chairs in the crowded, French restaurant.

Mr. Starkweather sat hunched, reading a newspaper off to the left side of his dinner plate. His severely graying hair, hawkish nose, and cold, steel gray eyes sweeping over each line only increased Clary's fear of approaching him. She stood just steps before his table, but he didn't even notice. She took a quick glance over her shoulder at her table; Kaelie was smiling, motioning for her to go forward.

Sighing, Clary walked the few more steps up to Hodge Starkweather's dinner table. She cleared her throat loudly. "Sir."

The man looked up, his eyebrows knitting together, a hand holding up his chin. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, yes actually!" Clary began eagerly. "You see-" she held up the manila folder in her right hand. "I'm an employee for the Stele Pen Company. I was wondering-"

He sneered, cutting her off. "I should've known you were an advertiser for _them_."

Clary stared at him, her lips parting from his harsh tone. "Excuse me?"

No longer finding her of any particular interest, he turned his gaze back to the newspaper. "Leave me. I'm not signing anything or agreeing to anything. I'm sick of endorsing all these useless products. So get away and don't bother me again."

Clary set her chin, not willing to give up. Putting on a sweet smile, she tried again. "But sir, if you could just please-"

"Stele Pen Company, you said?"

"Oh..um, yes. We-"

"You sell _pens_?" he sneered.

"Um, yes. I do. I promote products through making ads. Now if you could-"

"I hate pens." he said bluntly, taking another bite of chicken. "So no. I won't promote it. Now will you leave me?"

"Well, I hate it when someone interrupts everything I'm trying to say!" she felt her temper snap. She'd remained as level headed as she could've. Mr. Starkweather was now just being plain rude.

He looked up at her, obviously surprised by her bluntness. "Excuse me?"

"I'm going to tell you about the product, and you're going to sit and listen and not speak a word until I'm done." Clary commanded.

The man just stared at her, his elbows resting on the table, fingers clasped together and pressed against his lips. He narrowed his eyes in befuddlement. "Who are you?"

Clary lifted her chin, holding the manila folder with her folded arms. "Clarissa Fairchild."

"Hmm." he leaned forward. "And do you know who I am, Clarissa?"

"You're Hodge Starkweather, a column writer for The Idrisian Report newspaper."

"And do you know what I write about?" he smiled, but Clary felt a growing sense of dread at the menacing expression.

"You…you write reviews on products, departments, people, and advertise for companies." she stumbled.

"Then you realize I can ruin your whole career in a _single_ paragraph?" he smiled at that, slouching back in his chair, arms folded in success.

Clary shook her head. "You definitely could, and I'd be _greatly_ disappointed. I never thought of you as a cold, heartless man, but I guess I've misjudged you." she stated coldly, her lips curling into a frown.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Starkweather repeated from earlier.

"I know that you have a lot of power, but it gives you no excuse to be such a bully and abuse others with your words-"

_"Excuse me?"_ he cut in, an expression of pure bewilderment.

"-and now I know that our company is better off _without_ you." Clary finished, feeling triumphant with herself as she spun around and marched back to her table where Kaelie sat expectantly.

"Sooo…How did it go?" she chirped excitedly.

Clary slumped in her chair. "Awful."

* * *

Clary sat at her desk, crammed up against the wall. The whole back room was filled with them, her co-worker's rambunctious behavior filling the whole room with obnoxious conversations. Normally, Clary took apart in the fun activities, but she had the worst headache, like a hammer carving its way our of her skull.

It didn't help that she had to report to Mr. Lightwood her failings from the night before. She felt humiliated, even though her boss was completely understanding. He'd sent countless others to try and persuade Mr. Starkweather, but so far, it had all been in vain. It didn't comfort her at all though. Clary had been looking forward to proving herself, her name known to everyone. But now...she had failed just like everyone else. She was just the same as the others around her.

"Excuse me? Where can I find Clarissa Fairchild?"

Clary's eyes darted up to the stranger. And found that it wasn't a stranger at all, but the esteemed Mr. Starkweather. She swallowed, training her eyes on the blank sheet in front of her. She began a random sketch as she heard someone show him to where she sat.

"Ehem." Mr. Starkweather cleared his throat awkwardly, placing his fingers on the desk next to her arm.

"Hello sir. Can I help you?" she asked, pretending to be focused on her sketch and not his close proximity. The room quieted down uncomfortably, curious ears hounding for what they were saying.

"Yes, actually." he replied. "I wanted to...erm...I wanted to...apologize...to you."

Clary looked up, her eyebrows raising.. "_Apologize_...to me?"

"Yes." he looked uncomfortable, wringing his hat "I realized that my actions and words were rude and I ever meant them."

"Oh really?" Clary asked, unimpressed. "And is that only because I told you off?"

The man stayed quiet, head bowed.

"Mhmm." Clary hummed. "Just as I thought. Is there anything else you need?"

'"Yes." he sounded more business-like now, more serious and in control. "I have an offer for you, actually, if you'll agree."

"And what is that?" her brow furrowed.

"I will endorse your product, if..." he paused. "If you'll agree to have dinner with me this Friday night."

**Because reviews were lower last chapter, I'm promising (everyone with an account, :( sorry guests) that everyone who reviews will get a snippet from the next chapter...and trust me, you'll want to see it. It's pretty awesome, if I do say so myself!**

**So how did you all like this chapter? Did you hate it, love it? Like having Clary in here now? The Flashback might actually be in three parts or two. I can't decide. I think it'll be longer than this chapter, regardless of whether it's one or two more chapters.**

**-Lau**


	7. The Situation of a Flashback PART 2

**Sorry guys! The snippet I sent to you all for reviewing is actually for next chapter. Let me explain: I was writing and after several problems with saving and rewriting this one part at least a billion times, I decided to cut these chapters in half because it would've been at least 8,000 words...so next chapter is flashback part 3!**

**By the way...You guys are amazing! 22 reviews for just ONE chapter? I think that's a record for me! This is so exciting. Everyone just keep reviewing like that. I actually reread them at one point because I was having little to no motivation to write and then after I saw these...I had the urge to write again. So please, keep reviewing!**

**-Lau**

Clary smoothed out her navy blue, ruffled shirt and tucked it into her white, plaited skirt. The outfit made her look like a little girl, but it being the only thing that was clean (she hadn't the money to pay at the Laundromat), she wore it regardless. But she pulled her hair up in regal bun, so maybe the style would raise the look of her maturity.

When the offer came from Mr. Starkweather to attend dinner with him, her pride screamed from the inside for all it was worth. Clary wanted to spite him. _Boy,_ did she want to. But at the same time, her future and ambition called as well. This perhaps was a deal breaker between a desk job for the rest of her life and a freelancer...

So Clary accepted, hurting her pride tremendously, but the praise she would receive from her boss, her co-workers...would perhaps decrease the fatality.

She hailed a taxi, climbing into the small, smelly car and paid the driver to leave her at the same restaurant as the week before. She couldn't pronounce the name of the place even though she and Kaelie ate there regularly, so they gave the French Restaurant the name "Really Good Food Place."

When the taxi pulled up, she climbed out, pulling up her white sash to keep away from the chilly air. It was nearing late autumn, so the first snow of winter was sure to come soon.

She found Mr. Starkweather at the same table as the week before. So walking up to him, she stood in front of the table awkwardly, not sure whether she should just sit down or clear her throat-

"Oh, Ms. Clarissa. Sit down." Hodge Starkweather interjected her thoughts, speaking kindly to her.

She smiled, sitting down, and wrapped the sash on the back of her chair.

"You look lovely." he commented over the edge of his menu.

"Thank you." She blushed, looking him over to see if there was anything worth complimenting. "You're looking...gray."

His eyebrows rose. "Gray?"

Clary cursed herself. What a stupid thing to say! But it was true, she argued. He wore a gray suit with a gray tie and even his glasses were a steel color. Not to mention he had speckled gray hair and eyes. "No...I just mean...well. Today it looks like you've tried to display every shade of gray on the color pallet. "

He blinked. "I am, aren't I?" he replied, looking down at his attire.

"Yes." She laughed, glad he hadn't taken offense. But so far the conversation really hadn't broken the ice, leaving both of them struggling for what to say next.

* * *

"So, you'll actually endorse my product?"

The waitress arrived with their orders, setting down their drinks and plates.

"I did promise, didn't I?" he said.

"You did." She agreed grudgingly. "But how do I know whether or not you're telling the truth?"

Mr. Starkweather took a bite of his chicken thoughtfully and swallowed. "Well...I've already discussed the matter of your arrangement with Mr. Lightwood."

"My arrangement?" her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He just smiled at her and shook his head. "You made quite an impression on me, Ms. Fairchild."

What did he mean by that? Had she offended him by speaking her mind? Clary felt herself begin to panic. "Erm...sorry?"

Mr. Starkweather laughed and placed both hands on the white table cloth. "Don't apologize!" he told her.

"You mean...Mr. Lightwood isn't going to fire me?"

"What? No! Why would he do that?"

Clary shrugged, but on the inside she felt like dancing for joy.

"Well...anyways...I was very impressed by the...fierceness and the courage you had to stand up to me. Being an advertiser can be tough sometimes, and you showed qualities much fitted for that particular career."

Clary took a sip from her water. "What are you getting at?"

"I have almost everything set up for you, if you take the offer."

"What! What are you talking about?" she exploded; the ambiguity of his words were driving her near to insanity.

Mr. Starkweather grinned, his skin crinkling around the edges of eyes. Perhaps he laughed more when he was younger, Clary thought. "I plan to help you jump-start your career."

"How are you going to do that?" she asked cautiously, drinking more from her cup.

"I'm saying," he explained, "I'm going to help you become a freelancer."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Mr. Starkweather smirked from the other side at her reaction.

"I...I don't know what to say." Clary admitted, still dumbfounded, slumping back into her chair. This would fulfill her dream since school. But why would he help her, especially after she called him out?

"Thank you." She said finally, still completely speechless from before.

Hodge Starkweather nodded, wearing a kind expression, like he knew what she was thinking. "I remember the first time I was offered a chance to write in the paper."

"Was it daunting?"

He nodded. "Scared me to death. Especially since I was barely older than you. Most people writing in the newspaper were much older than I was, and bitter...I later found out that most everyone remained jealous of me the entire time I worked for that company."

"How awful."

"Not really." The older man said. "I switched to a different newspaper where they took me in and praised my work instead of judgmental and envious. I've stayed there until this very day."

Hearing Mr. Starkweather's success story wasn't exactly inspiring, but it gave Clary a mild sense of hope. Perhaps one day, sometime in the future, she would be as successful as he was.

After they finished their dinner, Clary went over to his side of the table. "Thank you, Mr. Starkweather." She smiled warmly at him, shaking his rough hand.

"Please, call me Hodge." He offered.

"Then I'm Clarissa." She responded.

"I feel like this deal will lead to amazing things, Clarissa."

"As do I. Great things." Clary beamed.

* * *

**Three Months Later**

"Spin once." He ordered, motioning to turn with his pointer finger.

Clary sighed exasperatedly. "Is this really necessary?" she complained.

"Yes, so stop sounding like a child."

"You know, I'm still very young. I could pass off as a child."

"But you don't want to look like a little girl around professional businessmen."

"Fine...But I think this is a little _too _fancy for such a casual meeting." The dress Clary had on for display was of expensive fabric, soft and silky. It was plain and black, but elegant. Despite the hem falling past her ankles, she felt too exposed with the low dip in the back and how it overexposed her breasts in the front.

Hodge just laughed. "This dress isn't for meetings; it's for your portrait."

"My portrait?" she repeated dumbfoundedly.

"Yes." He explained, "You need a portrait."

"But why do I need a painting of myself?"

"It's just something that you need."

Clary rolled her eyes. "I need a picture of myself in _my_ apartment?"

"Yes."

"It seems kind of vain." She scrutinized.

"Just trust me." Hodge argued. "You'll want it someday."

"Like when I'm as old as you are and I can look back on how I used to beautiful?"

"What are you trying to say?" he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Nothing." She laughed, finally turning in a full circle like he had originally asked.

"Perfect." Hodge's eyes swept over her once. "You can wear it to parties and concerts as well."

"I honestly think I have too much clothing now." Clary informed him. "I don't think I'll be able to wear all of them in a lifetime."

"You're exaggerating."

"Maybe I am." She grinned at him, raising her eyebrow slightly. She had almost managed to raise it completely after many long hours staring in the mirror.

"Alright, go put on something else." He told her. "Wear something that's appropriate to a meeting."

"Is this the last one?"

"Yes, this is the last one, and then you have your free time." He promised.

She grinned and ran off the stage they'd been borrowing for the past two hours. Never once did she have the slightest inkling that modeling could ever be so exhausting. Hodge'd picked out all her clothes and refused to tell her how much the bill cost, but she could only imagine.

Again, another thing she added to her thank-you-list. Not only was he offering an independent advertising job, he also got her moved out of her crappy apartment and into a hotel, bought her entire wardrobe, paid the painter for her future portrait, set up appointments for the next two weeks with rich business people, and invited her to a some kind of function at the end of next week with many important and powerful men and women in society.

Her list seemed to go on forever, so she reminded herself to not complain. Because after all, without him, she'd probably be stuck in that small and cramped desk, and nothing could be worse than that.

Clary walked back on stage for another intense study from Hodge until he deemed her worthy of all outfits. He went back with her to her hotel room to move all her clothes into her very monstrous, walk-in closet. And after wishing her a good-night, he left, promising he would come by in the morning.

Never before had Clary received such a devoted friend, and she wasn't sure what to make of it. He never gave a sufficient answer to why he even helped her in the first place, other than the vague response of, "You've made quite the impression on me." What did that even mean?

* * *

Clary shook the man's hand, which was smooth. "Simon Lewis."

"Nice to meet you." Clary responded, "I'm Clarissa Fairchild."

"Mr. Starkweather has told me much about you."

Clary perched herself on the plush ottoman, fixing her black dress. "Yes, I'm sure he has."

Simon started to unpack all his supplies. She craned her neck curiously to watch him from where she sat. Clary'd always been interested in art, but never once had she ever been able to master painting. "Oh..." Simon kept talking, even though he was bent over. "Is he interested in you?"

"What? No!" she exclaimed. "That'd be very odd if he was interested."

Simon shrugged, his arms full of paint bottles. "You never know. Love is an odd thing." He said cheesily, grinning cheekily.

"Is there someone in your life then?"

"Oh...No. Not really. Not yet, at least." He blushed, gathering most of his supplies and sitting them down on her new polished, chestnut table.

She laughed at him. "Same."

He glanced at her, cocking his head to the side before shaking it.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." Simon blushed, focusing on organizing his paints until everything was out and orderly on the able.

"So, what got you into painting?"

"If you could sit a bit more straight?" Simon offered offhandedly. Clary obediently listened. "Well, my…friend, Isabelle Trueblood, liked art a lot, so she dragged me to a couple of painting classes-"

Clary couldn't help it; she snorted. Simon sent her an exasperated look. "I know, it sounds very masculine, doesn't it?"

Clary bit her lip again, her cheeks turning pink from the restraint and effort to make Simon not feel uncomfortable. But she didn't think it was helping, since he was about the same shade as a tomato.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Simon shrugged, "It's alright. In all honesty, I'd be a bit worried about you if you hadn't made fun of me."

Clary immediately felt guilty. And slightly worrisome. After all, Simon was painting her portrait; he could screw it up however he wanted.

"Anyways," Simon blew a strand of hair out of his eyes as he bent down and disappeared behind the huge, black canvas, starting the first outline of sketch, "I went to a few lessons, and Izzy and I quickly learned that I had the talent, and that she didn't." He laughed randomly, thinking back on some funny memory of his friend's pathetic excuse for art.

"And I just kind of continued on with it." he finished." So now I have a perfect job and I love it."

"That must be nice." Clary commented plainly, yearning for that feeling.

"You mean you're not enjoying the free lancing advertiser job?" he frowned as he glanced over the canvas, peering at her shoulders.

"Well…yes, I am enjoying it…it's just not as fun as I thought it would be."

"You're just barely starting. Not even I bet."

"I guess." she agreed. "It's a little too glamorous for me…Something I didn't think went hand in hand. But you never know," she grinned coyly, "I may actually learn to like it."

Simon's laugh was muffled by the large barrier between them. "I'm sure you will."

* * *

Clary ignored the ringing telephone at the moment. She knew it was from Hodge and she knew that he was angry at her. But she didn't care, mostly because she was having too much fun. Simon sat beside her with a glass of wine, rambling to her. She laughed even though she hardly was paying attention. The portrait was finished and that meant a time for celebration.

Simon called the evening an occasion, so she cracked open one of the bottles Hodge had given her. Her back ached from sitting in the same position for hours. The wet painting sat propped up on his easel in the corner; the picture unnerved her still. It was very odd to have herself smiling seductively back at her…she didn't like it. But perhaps she would get used to it.

The telephone rang again, and Clary, aggravated, snatch it up and answered with a short and snappy "What?"

"Clarissa?" Hodge breathed from the other line.

"Yes, it's me." she sighed, leaning against the wall when a an odd wave of dizziness flushed over her.

"I was worried. You weren't answering at all."

The desperate tone in his voice sobered her up a bit and Clary remembered that he was only looking out for her own best interest and well-being. "I was out. Sorry. I just got home actually."

"Oh…alright then." his tone lifted. "How's the portrait going?"

" Simon finished it. We're just having some wine for celebration."

"Then where did you go?"

For a moment Clary panicked. "I was out getting some wine, actually."

"Why didn't you use what I gave you?"

"Oh…I forgot about it." she stumbled. "I'm still used to buying things on my own."

Hodge still sounded unsure, but he didn't press it any further, much to Clary's relief. "Next week is the Pontmercy function, if you still want to go."

Clary hummed, trying to decide whether or not she really wanted to or not. "What will be going on there again?"

"dancing, some form of entertainment, and plenty of socializing. It'll be a perfect time to meet and promote yourself.

"Alright, I'll go." she smiled.

* * *

Simon didn't stop by like he'd promised the night before. Clary at the time assumed that he'd forgotten. Throughout the week, Clary found herself enjoying Simon's company the more she spent in it. He was so easy to talk to and such happy company. While Clary did enjoy Hodge, she often felt drained and tired after spending a whole day with him. With Simon it was so effortless.

Clary never noticed Hodge's distaste to the boy until after she cancelled a dinner with him over the phone.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll enjoy your time with the kid more than with me." Hodge snapped over the line.

Clary was taken aback and couldn't respond for several seconds, trying to come up with comeback to shoot back at him. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"Hodge." she commanded resolutely, "Tell me. What's wrong?"

He just sighed. "Don't worry yourself on my sensitive feelings. I think old age is wearing out my nerves."

Clary nodded, not entirely sure he was telling the truth. "Mhmm."

"We'll reschedule for another time, then?" Hodge had said, breaking the silence over the two ends.

She had agreed and hung up, eager to right whatever wrong she'd committed.

But three weeks later, Simon still hadn't returned any of her calls. Their regular meetings usually left Clary sitting on a park bench alone. Clary walked by his house at one point, ringing and knocking on the door several times. He never answered.

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

Hodge was her chauffeur to the first party, and it wouldn't be the last. Clary wore the black dress. And though it was plain, every eye drew to her. Walking on the lawn for those first few seconds was breathtaking.

The richest and most beautiful were invited, all extravagant in their apparel of clothes and jewelry. The tables were lit by candle, weak Christmas lights hanging above them, tangled with the wisteria growing from the long trellis' supports.

In the center was a small dancing area, where already several couples shuffled together closely. Clary took a deep breath; even the air felt rich!

Naturally, she felt nervous, but as Hodge walked her around, greeting strangers and introducing her, she felt more comfortable and less robotic whenever she shook someone's hand.

* * *

By the end of the night, Clary felt much more confident in talking with others and in charming them. It honestly wasn't that hard. After all, she looked beautiful, and as long as she smiled brightly and sweetly, everyone seemed to adore her.

Hodge pulled her to the dance floor at the end. "You thrive in this environment." he grinned.

She shrugged. "I was a scared when I first came here, actually."

"You were?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes…but I've got more comfortable as it's gotten later."

Content silence ensued for a duration of the dance until Clary yawned widely.

"Are you tired?" Clary nodded. "Here, put your head on my shoulder."

Clary's eyes widened at the offer. She didn't know what to think; was it a fatherly offer, or was it like what Simon teased the first day: was he attracted to her?

She preferred the former, obviously, mostly because of how strange things might grow between them, especially since his feelings could never be reciprocated back. But she robotically lied her head on his bony shoulder.

The dance lasted another two minutes, and it was perhaps the most grueling two minutes of her life. The gesture would've been seen sweeter if their relationship was more intimate. But still budding, Clary didn't know what to do after the song ended.

She lifted her head, and for some reason she couldn't look him in the eye. Was she leading him on? Did he think he had some kind of chance with her? Perhaps he didn't realize that she could never be attracted to him, despite all he had done and would do for her?

"We should probably leave now." Clary suggested tiredly.

"Alright?" Hodge looked confused, his brow furrowed.

And that look convinced her that Hodge had no special feelings for her other than whatever fatherly actions he showed her. It was prideful to think that everyone who cared fr her felt that _way_ towards her. As usual, Clary over thought everything.

* * *

**Two Months Later**

"Could you excuse me, Hodge? I need a breather."

He nodded distractedly, his attention fixed on the scene before him as the play reached the middle of the third act. Inside the theatre, the air was extremely stuffy smokey from cigars. Clary felt like someone was slowly suffocating her.

She sidled through the row and tried not draw anyone's eyes from the stage. Leaving out the entrance doors, she stood outside gratefully, taking deep and fresh breaths of air.

"Is it too hot in there for you as well?"

Clary jumped and swiveled around to face whoever was behind her. She searched the shadows where the tall build of a dark stranger stayed, just barely out of the lamplight. Clary tried not to sound scared, but she thought she heard her voice quiver once or twice. "Who's there?"

A tall man with dark hair stepped out from where he'd previously leaned against the building. The stranger outstretched a hand. His skin looked like a sickly yellow under the dim streetlight, but the fingers were long and delicate, like he never truly worked a full day in his life. "Sebastian Verlac."

**Bum bum BUM!**

**How does everyone like it? I think this chapter was a bit slow, but I think that next chapter, hopefully, will be better. The next update shouldn't be much longer either, since I have most of it written down.**

**Anything that surprised you? What do you think happened to Simon? Any assumptions on Sebastian's character? Any thoughts on Hodge?**

**Also, I'm shamelessly promoting right now: Please please PLEASE look at the story "City of Broken Heroes." I'm writing collaboratively with a ton of other awesome fanfic authors, so I hope everyone will take a chance to look at that!**

**-Lau**


	8. The Situation of a Flashback PART 3

**When I said faster, I didn't mean a week and a half. I think I meant about three to five days, but the problem isn't that I haven't been writing, it's that I'm writing TOO much. When this and the next chapter (the last part of the flashback, I PROMISE) were still one monster chapter, still unfinished-might I add- the WORD document was 19 pages long. I think I really just enjoyed writing in Clary's POV and I really kind of miss doing that, so that must be why I like making this extra long. **

**So here it is, Part 3 of Hodge's Flashback in Clary's POV.**

**-Lau**

Clary stared at his hand before glancing back up at him. He was handsome in his own way, dark hair and eyes, with a large-ish nose and a crooked smile. She timidly shook it after a moment of thought. Sebastian grinned charmingly. "And you name is…"

"Oh…Clarissa Fairchild." she answered hurriedly, taking her hand away from his.

"Clarissa Fairchild…" he repeated contemplatively. "I feel like I've heard of you before."

"I don't think I've ever seen you before." she added lightly, "Although, you could just be a stalker."

He laughed, holding his hands up. "I'm no stalker. I just meant that your name sounded familiar."

"Oh…" Clary blushed. "You probably have. I'm a freelancing advertiser."

"I remember now!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands once and pointing at her in excitement. "You were the one in the paper! In Starkweather's column."

"Yes, yes that's me." she blushed even more, looking down at her feet. "But how do you remember that? He mentioned me _months_ ago."

Sebastian shrugged. "Business always has been an interest of mine, so I automatically remembered your name and how Mr. Starkweather praised your work; it takes a while to gain that man's respect, I'm guessing?"

Clary shrugged. "It took me less than twenty four hours, but I think I'm just an exception."

"Well, yeah." Sebastian said, "I mean, look at you. What man wouldn't make an exception.?"

Right when Clary felt the blush going away, he had to say that! The pink came back in like a rolling storm, staining her cheeks and, hopefully, not her neck, a dark red.

Sebastian studied her, his gaze unreadable to her. "What is it?"

He shook his head nonchalantly. "Nothing."

"Okay…" it was then that Clary realized that she was talking to a stranger like a good friend; he knew her name, her job, her friends…Perhaps he _was_ a stalker? "Well…I need to get back in the theatre-"

"As do I." he nodded.

"Do you have-"

"Yes, I bought a ticket." he added, rolling his eyes. "I just needed a smoke for a few minutes."

"How do I know you aren't lying to me?" Clary eyed his frayed coat and hat, the hem on his trousers that needed to be mended, and the pathetically folded handkerchief stuffed in his suit pocket.

"I know I look poor, but I really did buy a ticket." he pulled out a folded white piece from inside his coat.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have been so impolite."

"It's fine." he grinned easily. "I understand."

He walked with her into the theatre, the antechamber empty except for the bored ticket seller. Clary noticed out of the corner of her eye Sebastian, tipping his hat lower over his eyes, but thought nothing of it. After all, he had a ticket.

The next act had already begun by the time they came back in. Hodge had convinced Clary unwilling to go to a comedic Shakespearean play called _As You Like It_. It involved a cross dresser, a love sick fool of a man, a random philosophical clown, and several unneeded shepherds. It wasn't her favorite, to say the least.

"My seat is over there." she whispered softly, pointing to where Hodge sat.

"I have a better seat." Sebastian offered in a hushed tone. "And it's much less of a distraction to go there than to creep down the front isle."

She nodded, beckoning him to lead the way.

* * *

It ended up that Sebastian had a balcony seat on the west side. Clary smiled and looked down on the scene, the lord and all his subjects laughing and partying around a large feast. As the play progressed, Clary noticed a few police men going up and down the edge rows. She frowned, distracted.

Sebastian seemed to notice them as well, because he started to grow antsy and nervous.

"Do you know why they might be here?" she asked him.

Sebastian shook his head, but Clary still felt suspicious of him. "So if I start to scream, and the police come up here, you have no reason to be worried?"

His eyes narrowed at her in wonder. "No..I mean…well, yes, but-"

"I thought you said you bought a ticket!" she exclaimed.

He clamped one hand over her mouth. "Keep quiet!" After glancing around the theatre and, being satisfied no one heard her, he released her and explained, "Alright I didn't buy a ticket, okay?"

Clary jumped out of her seat. "But-"

"It was just a bit of paper that I had." he admitted, tossing the folded white piece of paper into her hands. She opened it up; it was an old receipt for cigarettes.

She crumpled it up in her fists angrily. "You…you tricked me!"

His hands were up, flinching at her words. "I only meant-"

"You took advantage of me-" she advanced on him, standing up.

He leapt out of his chair, backing towards the door down the staircase. "No, I didn't." he countered slowly.

"Who are you?" she asked, suddenly frightened. "Are you some kind of criminal?"

"No, no no!" Sebastian stammered. "It's not like that. I just…stole something." he ended guiltily.

"Then you _are_ a criminal!" she accused, her heart thundering.

"No, I am not." he repeated it slowly again, as if to let the message sink in. "No, I am _not_."

"Then explain." she commanded shakily.

"I didn't have enough money to buy food, so I smuggled some but got caught. Then I bolted."

"Oh." Clary was dumbstruck; she wasn't sure what to make of his story. After all, he had lied to her the entire time. How did she know whether or not he was lying again?

But his pleading expression and bright blue eyes shone in the darkness, and Clary felt herself undeniably trusting him, even though she knew it wasn't a good idea. This Sebastian had a look that said "I am worthy of your trust," and then would steal your wallet."Why can't you afford food? Do you not have a job?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Well then. I won't turn you in."

He sighed in relief, his shoulders sagging.

"But…" she drawled, just to scare him. Clary tried not to smile, for it would ruin the effect, but she couldn't help it; the look of fear he sent her was too humorous. "But you'll have to agree to do something for me."

"And what's that?" he asked cautiously.

"You have to be my first employee."

He stared at her, his mouth gaping.

Clary suppressed her laughter into a short giggle. "I take it that's a yes, then?"

* * *

**Three week later**

Diana Wrayburn's party was much like the one several weeks ago: an outside party before the fall weather turned drastically cold and harsh. Hodge remained at her side most of the time, but disappeared immediately when Sebastian slung an arm around her shoulders. He seemed to have no boundaries and limits when it came to others. In some ways, Sebastian was too bold; he'd play with her hair when it wasn't up, or sling an arm around her waist, and whisper some snide comment about Hodge right up against her ear.

Clary would laugh and shove him away, but secretly, she loved it. Spending any time near Sebastian was new and exciting and intense. Nothing could ever compare with the certain feeling he gave her stomach when he touched her, or looked at her differently. Perhaps that the intrigue of Sebastian Verlac was what really drew Clary in. She could never guess what Sebastian was thinking. And so when he asked her to dance, she willingly and eagerly said yes.

"How do you like this?"

"What do you mean?"

Clary gestured with her free hand on his shoulder "This. Having money. Socializing with others who have money..."

"I thought I'd like it much more than this actually." Sebastian looked down at her, his black, tailored suit matching his dark, dark eyes.

Clary cleared her throat. "How so?"

He laughed then, thinking back on a good memory. "You should see the parties I used to go to."

Her eyebrows rose. "_What_ kind of parties?"

Sebastian grinned his signature, crooked grin and bowed his head. "You look like you think I killed someone. It really wasn't serious...booze flowing freely and endlessly, a couple of pretty girls, some jazz...A perfect party."

Clary shook her head. "That sounds like the kind of things people went to all the time when I went to school."

"They really aren't that bad. I'm guessing you never went to any of them?"

"Wrong; never invited. I kind of just stuck to myself."

"Well, that makes sense, since you can do everything by yourself."

Clary frowned at him despite his charming smile. "What do you mean?"

He laughed breathily. "You don't need to rely on others to get a job done. I've been working with you for a few weeks and I can already see that. In fact, I feel like that you don't really need me there."

Clary bit her lip. She hadn't put as much responsibility on Sebastian mainly because he was so new, and that Clary didn't particularly trust him to take on full projects and get them done perfectly. "Oh...I never noticed."

Sebastian tilted his head. "You are-"

"I believe your time is up now, Sebastian." Hodge tapped his shoulder.

Clary frowned at him, but Sebastian just gave them an easy grin. She thought she heard him mutter under his breath, "Enjoy it will it lasts." while he walked away, but she wasn't sure.

* * *

**Several Months later**

Clary could feel Hodge's glare burning into the back of both her and Sebastian's heads. He still hated Sebastian, even after six months.

She remembered the first time Hodge had complained about him, just a week after his recruit.

"This man has an awful record, Clarissa. He'll only bring down your reputation."

"And if I'm shown as a cold and heartless woman, unwilling to give anyone second chances, then I'm sure that it'll happen, regardless." she shot back at him. She liked Sebastian, _a lot_, and it was a great change to have him working with her-to not be the only one completely inexperienced and clueless. Hodge on the other hand was the polar opposite-too much experience and therefore very opinionated.

Hodge took an immediate disliking to Sebastian, so automatically Sebastian hated Hodge in response. Clary wasn't sure when the bad blood started between the two of them, but it only made her feel even more confused on why men did this or that.

"Let's stay on task, now." Hodge told them snippily.

"We're fine, Hodge." Clary scoffed, grinning at him teasingly over her shoulder.

"You won't be if you two keep on doing nothing." Hodge muttered.

Clary just rolled her eyes and ignored his sullen mood. She wouldn't let him bother her good mood then. "If you want to go Hodge, be my guest." Clary offered, pointing to the door of her brand, new office.

"Fine then." he snapped. "I'll just leave you two to fool around." he got up harshly and grabbed his coat before leaving, the door slamming behind him.

"Thank goodness." Sebastian breathed. "I thought he'd never leave."

"Sebastian." she laughed, playfully shoving his arm. "Don't be so rude. He really is a good person."

"Oh, I believe it." Sebastian replied, supporting his body on the white, plastic work table with his arms, just barely sitting on the edge.

"But…" she knew he wasn't done.

"But…" he smiled, "I know for a personal fact that he's a lying, overly jealous twit who'll do anything to get what he wants."

Clary rolled her eyes; Sebastian seemed to be convinced that Hodge was in love her, which she refused to believe. She raised her eyebrows and gave him a look. "And what has he got to be jealous of?"

"Well, it's quite obvious, isn't it?" Sebastian smirked, leaning toward her. Clary felt her heart flutter.

"No, not really." she pretended, trying to goad him on. She turned her back to him, absentmindedly adding a few lines to the rough draft of their next project.

"Me." he answered cockily, putting both arms on either side of her, so that she was encircled by his body, Sebastian's chest pressing up against her back.

"Oh _really?"_ she snorted, trying to keep her cool composure regardless of whatever sensual pleasure Sebastian was inflicting upon her. "And what gives you that idea?"

"It's_ obvious_," he emphasized the word, grabbing her waist and turning her to face him, "that you like _me_ better than _him_."

"That can't be right." she frowned, a confused and innocent expression plastered upon her face as she placed her hands on his waistcoat. "I can recall fancying Hodge from time to time…when I get really bored."

Sebastian and Clary burst out laughing, her mouth muffled by his coat jacket when he pulled her closer to him.

"I guess Hodge can be attractive…" he paused, "In his own way."

Clary hung her head, another wave of laughter filling her again. She tried to imagine herself ever feeling that way towards Hodge-and shuddered.

"Well, I guess _if_ he likes me-"

"He _does_, trust me."

"-then he _does_ have a reason to be jealous." she smiled at Sebastian as he tucked his arms around her slim waist, kissing her from behind.

His lips were soft when they met, Clary having to crane her neck to reach him, and even then, Sebastian had to bend over to accommodate their differing height. She rested a hand against his cheek, smiling into the kiss at the bubbling feeling that grew every second they touched. He never was too urgent, but Sebastian never held back any passion that he felt.

Sebastian pulled away first, resting his face in the back of her hair. "I've found the perfect ring." he murmured, his voice muffled by her curls.

"You did?" she hummed contentedly, keeping her eyes closed as Sebastian swayed back and forth in lulling beat.

"Mhmm." he smiled, lifting her hand and stepping away from her. Sebastian was always so warm, and Clary felt the loss of his body heat escape her as he pulled a small box out of his pant pocket. He flipped the container open and slowly slid the cold metal down her ring finger.

Clary could feel herself grinning uncontrollably and Sebastian watching for her reaction earnestly. The engagement ring was a simple gold band with a medium sized pearl in the center with sparkling and twinkling white jewels encrusted around the perimeter. Clary studied it, her pointer finger smoothing over the pearl.

She opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. Sebastian hurried before she could say anything. "I know that it isn't much, but when I saw it, I immediately thought of you."

Clary just shook her head, utterly speechless. Sebastian glanced timidly over at her. "Do you not like it?"

She laughed then. "Goodness, Sebastian; stop being so nervous! It's beautiful and I love it." she told him sincerely.

Sebastian sighed in relief and kissed her once, before holding her hands in his. "So I guess this means we should announce it soon?"

* * *

Hodge still remained sullenly hunched in his chair, a glass of wine not even touched. Clary tried not to take his reaction too personally; she still wanted his approval even though she knew he hated Sebastian. Perhaps he could if he realized just how _happy_ she felt.

Clary braced herself for disaster as she mustered whatever courage she had left over after the announcement. In short, Hodge's reaction put a damper on her spirit and hopes for whatever their friendship would be after the marriage.

Clary had never felt so intimidated by Hodge than that moment; an aura of cold, angry, bitterness surrounded him as she sat down on the ottoman across from him.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Clary asked anxiously, crossing her legs.

"Sorry?" Hodge jumped, complete unaware of his company.

_What a stupid thing to say! _Clary reprimanded herself. "I was just wondering if you were enjoying yourself." Clary ground her teeth at the silly question: it was very obvious that Hodge was _not_ having fun.

"Oh." Hodge frowned. "I'm fine."

Clary bit her lip worriedly at the lie. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Hodge forced a smile." I'm completely sure."

"Oh…" a strained silence arose between them, which was quite foreign for the both of them. Normally Hodge would speak his mind when something was bothering him.

Then he finally came out with it.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "I really don't think you should trust him."

Clary only rolled her eyes and shrugged his hand off. "I've known him for months now. I don't think he'd do anything."

Hodge shook his head. "I know everything about him as well."

"That's because you read up on him! I know him _personally_."

"As do I!" he exclaimed.

"Not like I do." She countered. "I'm completely sure about this. We're to be married in two months." she paused. "Perhaps you could-"

"I was actually going to turn in for the night." Hodge interrupted.

"But-"

"I'm not as young as I once was, Clarissa. I'm not at all used to staying up so late into the night." he excused himself, standing up.

Clary wasn't at all pleased with him leaving, but she forgave him. If she'd known the news was such a shock, then she might've told him in a less public setting. "Alright. But we'll still have our dinner date next Friday?"

Hodge smiled, for real this time. "Of course." he replied before turning his back and disappearing out the front door of her suite.

* * *

Sebastian finished introducing all of his past mates and friends to Clary, but she didn't care to remember any of them. She really was looking forward to seeing Kaelie arrive above everyone's heads; only Clary's old co-workers were in attendance.

When a blonde, curly head appeared by the door, Clary smiled in excitement, leaving Sebastian's side to greet her friend.

"I'm so happy for you!" Kaelie exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Here, I want you to meet him." Clary pulled on her arm mercilessly, Kaelie laughing from her eagerness.

"What's his name again?"

"Sebastian-" Clary stopped as she met up with her fiancé again. "Here he is." she beamed up at him, "Sebastian Verlac."

Clary was unaware of the uncomfortable silence until Kaelie broke it with a cracked voice, "Sebastian?"

Clary snapped her gaze away from her future husband to frown at Kaelie. "Do you two…"

"Kaelie?" Sebastian breathed quietly.

XXX.

Clary was pacing.

The room was slightly messy from wine glasses and food left around the two rooms of her suite. Everyone had left, leaving Sebastian sitting sullenly on the arm of a couch nearest to her. "Clary-"

"No." she snapped and glared at him, "Don't talk until I tell you."

"But-" she shot him another threatening glare, effectively cutting of whatever he tried to say.

The situation was still boiling over in her head. Beyond angry, Clary could feel her temper rising with every passing minute, to the point of where Clary felt like she was about to explode. How was she supposed to respond to this news? Why had he never told her? How had she never heard of it from Kaelie?

Clary vaguely remembered a brief engagement between Kaelie and a stranger. She hadn't thought much of it for years, Kaelie getting over the fact that the bastard left her just a month before the wedding day.

Had Clary over looked a friend in need of comfort? Had she overlooked Sebastian and the mysteriousness the followed him everywhere? Was she more attracted to the excitement and idea of him, than the actual character of Sebastian Verlac? Perhaps he was a gold-digging scumbag that was only playing Clary…

"When did you plan on telling me?" she finally asked out loud, continuing on with her pacing.

"Sorry?"

"When did you even plan on leaving me?"

"I…never-" he stuttered, "Clarissa, this is ridiculous! I was _never_ going to leave you!"

"Oh, _I'm_ the one who's being ridiculous, now?" she laughed maniacally and stopped her pacing. "Were those the same words you reassured Kaelie with?"

"Clarissa." he laughed deflatedly, "You don't understand-"

"To hell I don't!" she exclaimed, her fists balling up. "What did you plan on doing before the wedding? Kiss me good night and never return?"

"No! No-"

"How can you fail to tell me that you left your fiancé broken hearted and expect me to never find out?" she shouted at him, "Or did you think I would take this lightly?"

"I would've told you earlier if I'd known you'd react like this!" he yelled back angrily.

"Oh, I'm _sure_." her voice dripped with heavy sarcasm, folding her arms across her chest.

"You don't have to trust me if you want, but if you would just _shut up_, I could get a word across." he snapped icily.

Clary flinched and snapped her mouth shut, biting back a sharp retort. "Fine. Tell me."

Sebastian sighed, running his hand through his dark hair. "I wasn't really in love with Kaelie. It never went beyond intense infatuation. It was all physical. We pleased each other sensually to the point of…well, intimacy…and I'm sure we both felt connected emotionally in a small sense, but-"

Clary snorted, but stayed quiet when Sebastian shook his head. "Let me finish. I…We thought we were in love. So when we got engaged almost immediately…" he hid his face behind his hands and breathed through them heavily. "I got scared. Really scared, Clarissa."

Clary didn't know what to say. While the feeling of tumultuous betrayal was ever-present in her head, pity weaseled it's way inside as well…But not enough. "And we were so young…And Kaelie-" he let out a short, non-humorous laugh, "She was so eager and excited.

"I didn't know what to do. I felt responsible for her, but I had to escape. I realized this near the end. I couldn't live with her for the rest of my life, married to someone I didn't truly love. I couldn't tie myself down then."

"And you can now?" Clary narrowed her eyes. How could she trust anything he said?

"Because with you…" Sebastian took two timid steps toward her, Clary immediately freezing up. "It feels different."

"Oh _please_-"

"No…I'm serious, Clarissa. We've been together for over six months. I know that the wedding day was scheduled really early, and if you want, we can move it back however long you need. And I know that you have doubts and you don't trust me, but please…Think it over. Believe me."

Throughout his pleading, he was inching closer and closer to her, to where he held her face between his hands.

"But I don't." she breathed, trying not to get distracted by his close proximity. While she may be angry at him, her body still responded to Sebastian.

"Try." he urged

"I can't Sebastian. I _don't_ trust you."

His face fell, head bowing. His soft hair brushed her forehead.

Clary bit her lip. "I'm scared, Sebastian. _I'm scared_. How will I ever? How _can_ I?"

"I understand." he said quietly. "Just please. Think about us before you break anything off."

"I can't think about _us_ when all I can think about are _you two_. You and Kaelie."

He shook his head, pulling her tighter against him. Clary did nothing to pull away, but didn't respond to him either. "You can't see it. I never loved Kaelie, and I still don't. I love _you._"

Sebastian sighed when she shook her head. "I'll show you then."

* * *

When his lips just touched hers, Clary immediately recoiled, but his hands were strong as he kept her face entrapped. She stopped resisting then, remembering how well they fit together, how responsive he was to her when she coiled her fingers through his dark, soft hair.

Sebastian was always so gentle with her. Hands gliding down her waist slowly, Clary closed her eyes, kissing him with more force. Their lips melded into quick and easy movement, his tongue rolling against hers when he moved them to her bedroom door.

Clary didn't know what to think as he gripped for the door handle. Euphoria mixed with panic. Were they really ready to do this? Perhaps Sebastian was, but Clary hadn't an inkling of her feelings for Sebastian at that moment. He'd lied to her about a serious event in his life. Clary'd never hid anything away from him-not once.

Sebastian succeeded in turning the knob and pushed them through, not breaking their kiss once. Sebastian had done this before with Kaelie, how many times, Clary did not know, but the thought made her feel sick.

Sebastian stopped kissing her for a moment, whispering "What's wrong?" against her lips when she froze.

Clary opened her eyes as he continued to kiss her, slower than before. "Kaelie-"

"Don't think about her." he sighed, pressing his forehead against hers, looking into her green eyes.

"But-"

"Clary?"

"Yes?"

"Do you love me or not?"

She licked her lips and whispered hoarsely, "Yes."

"Then what do you want? For the rest of your life?"

Clary sucked in a sharp breath and blurted, without really thinking, "You."

Sebastian smiled then, his dark eyes lighting up pleasantly. Perhaps love was without thought and couldn't be examined through and through, Clary contemplated as he moved to hover above her on her bed. Love wouldn't make sense if it was just with the mind. Her heart burned then as he removed her clothes, and she removed his.

* * *

Clary sat in the chair across from Hodge in good cheer. Hodge was back to his good natured-self, and the fear that had eaten away at her that night was gone. Sebastian had ways of convincing her if she did doubt again.

Since then, Kaelie confirmed that most of what Sebastian said to be true, except that she really did love him, and that he loved her. "He was just a spoiled, arrogant coward who couldn't face his feelings."

Clary chuckled at the comment. While the conversation reassured her to marry Sebastian, it also insightfully brought to her acknowledgement that Sebastian wasn't a perfect human being.

"Don't worry." Kaelie had smiled at her and given her a playful nudge to the shoulder. "I'd shoot myself in the head before even looking at him again."

"I'm not jealous." Clary reassured her. And she was telling the truth; she wasn't worried at all.

"How has been your week, then Hodge?" she asked him cheerily.

He clasped his hands in front of him on the table and grimaced. "A bit busy. I've had to catch up on some writing because of some distractions."

"What distractions?" Clary sipped some of her iced water.

"Oh, nothing." he sighed, stretching in his chair and yawning. "Just picking up some of the extra slack on Sebastian's side."

Clary frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, "he drawled, "That he didn't show up yesterday…or the day before that."

"Oh…" she bit her lip. "Probably just some wedding plans he was seeing to."

Hodge snorted. "Sure."

"What do you mean?" Clary narrowed her eyes at him.

"I was convinced he'd gone out to see someone…At least, that was his excuse."

"Seeing who?"

"Didn't tell me."

Clary swept a few stray strands of hair off her forehead. "I'm sure it was just some friend of his that was staying in town for a few days." Clary felt as if she was trying to convince herself.

"Of course." Hodge replied leisurely. He sounded as if he was enjoying himself.

Clary just took a bite from her plate, chewing anxiously. Hodge's comment already planted a seed of doubt. Was it really so easy to not trust Sebastian? Every little thing that he did made her jump and contemplate his motives. Perhaps he was seeing Kaelie? Or some other lover? Maybe he was a bigamist!

* * *

Clary climbed out of her hailed taxi and hurried to the front doors of the hotel. Sebastian was hopefully still in the suite. She really was being too paranoid. If Sebastian already left, it didn't mean that he was seeing another girl. It meant that he wanted to stay where he had all his things, where he was used to everything.

But when Clary opened the door to her suite, she was left disappointed. Inside, sitting on her couch, was a lovely young woman. She lounged with her long legs up and black hair swept over one shoulder. Sebastian sat next to her, a sheet of paper in hand and scribbling something down furiously.

"Um, Sebastian? What's going on?"

"Oh! Clarissa!" he jumped from where he sat and eagerly led her to the couch across from the two. "You're here finally. This Aline Penhallow. She been interested in our business for promoting herself as a model."

"Oh." Aline blinked at her. "Then why-"

"She wanted to see how well I could draw her in a picture." he answered immediately, "but I'm nothing compared to Clarissa." he grinned at Aline. "She's amazing."

Clary blushed at the praise. She'd come up here expecting…well, she wasn't sure what to expect, but certainly not this. So Hodge had been wrong: he wasn't slacking in his job at all, but excelling. Once again, she'd let doubt poison and let her fret about Sebastian when there wasn't anything to fuss over.

"So you two are engaged?" Aline asked, eyeing the two of them.

Clary held up her ringed hand and practically hear herself boasting. "We announced it just last week."

"How sweet." Aline's lips curled into a smooth, knowing smile, her almond eyes darting between the two "Sebastian speaks highly of you."

Clary laughed with strain. "Does he?"

"Right." Sebastian glanced between the two girls, unsure of what was going on. Clary wasn't entirely sure herself, but she felt threatened on a possessive and predatory scale. The girl pushed her to the wrong edge. "I'm almost done with this. I'll meet up with you in your room after I see Ms. Penhallow off."

She nodded. "Of course."

Clary was glad to leave the room; she needed to stop feeling so jealous! Little things kept wearing away at her self-confidence, and this confrontation did nothing to help. Did she really need to show off and to threaten the girl, who's sultry side was probably just for her work and business?

She blew a strand of hair out of her face, thinking back on the week while she got comfortable on her mattress. Sebastian and her had gone out the whole time, sitting down for lunch and planning out everything down to the colors and flower arrangements. Needless to say, it was long, grueling work that still had her stressed out. Perhaps that was the problem; Clary was putting too much on her plate and overworking her to the breaking point.

It wasn't long before Sebastian opened the door quietly, smiling that endearing, crooked smile when their eyes met. Clary pulled herself onto her elbows, supporting herself to get a better view of him. His hair was more mussed than usual and his dark eyes remained shadowed underneath his thick eyebrows.

Clary tried to remind herself that no, Sebastian wasn't a perfect human being and that yes, while his nose was slightly larger than normal, it somehow added character to that beautiful face. Clary only realized that she was staring when he walked closer to her, sitting down next to her.

She rested her heavy head in the crook between his neck and shoulder and sighed. "You had an exhausting day, I assume, with how tired you are." Sebastian chuckled into her hair.

"I guess it wasn't all too bad." she sighed again. "My evening meal with Hodge was mostly pleasant."

"Mostly? Uh-oh, that's never good." he grinned teasingly at her.

"Sebastian?"

"Hmm?"

"What have you been doing the past two days instead of working?" she asked slowly and carefully.

He bit his lip. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I asked. You heard me; it shouldn't be that difficult…answer me truthfully. It'll be much better if you just tell me."

Sebastian's lips parted. Clary wasn't sure if this meant he was just surprised at how front her approach was, or thinking up an excuse to save his skin. "I…was just seeing an old friend. She was in town, so we decided to spend some time together before she left again."

"Oh…" Clary frowned. Was it sad to say that she didn't believe him?

"I know it sounds sketchy, but she's just an old friend from school." he smiled reassuringly at her, and Clary, willingly thought nothing of it.

**Anyone trust Sebastian? I don't. Is there anymore guesses? Changes of theory? I liked the argument between them. I think I did pretty well. though I feel like every argument between a character ends with them making out. Though I guess that's not a very awful thing considering it shows how weak their relationship is. The fact that Sebastian has to kiss Clary to get her to shut up doesn't show a good sign on how well of a relationship they have. Normal couples (hopefully) talk it out before having make up sex.**

**And I PROMISE next chapter is THE LAST flashback chapter an then we get back to the investigation.**

**-Lau**


	9. The Situation of a Flashback PART 4

**It's been, again, a longer time than I wanted to for an update. I was having slight writers block during a discussion between Sebastian and Clary, and now, I am very satisfied! I really like this chapter, and I hope you like it as well!**

**Please keep on reviewing and favoriting and following! After 9 chapters, what more is everyone waiting for? I promise to keep updating, and hopefully progressing in awesomeness and mystery. **

**Oh, and challenge for you all! I had one person in the LAST chapter make a reference to how Clary died, just because I thought it was funny. NO, it does not mean that that person killed her, it just means I saw an opportunity and I took it. So I will give a snippet of the next chapter if you review with what was said and by whom!**

**-Lau**

Once Sebastian was asleep, Clary got out of bed and wrapped a silken robe around her bare body. Her feet padded against the floor before muffling as she reached the carpet-covered drawing area.

Clary glanced at the ajar door of bedroom guiltily, worried that Sebastian would come staggering in. Clary swept straight over to the telephone, her silken robe billowing behind her from her urgency. She rung up the hotel front desk. It was nearly past Midnight, and Clary prayed that someone was still there.

Finally, after several long, torturing rings, a sleepy, slurring male voice answered with a, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, if you could send someone to me with the history of my calls for the past two weeks, I need them."

"At 12:38 in the morning?" he groaned.

"I'll triple the tip for whoever comes with the list." Clary promised, and smiled when the man's voice became more alerted.

"Someone will be up straight away, Miss."

"Good." Clary restrained a laugh, "Thank you."

* * *

The urgent knock on her door awoke her from a small doze she'd had while on her comfortable sofa. "Come in!" She called, and immediately scorned at herself; if Sebastian found out about what she was doing…

A young man came bumbling in, a sheet of paper in his hand. "Here they are, Miss." Clary recognized his voice as the same one from the phone call and hid a small smirk. He looked her up and down, her legs and plenty of her chest open in display, making her realize how indecent she looked.

Thank you." she whispered and grabbed the paper from him eagerly. She handed him the respected bill from her wallet and watched as he left her suite, his step lighter than before.

Clary greedily checked all the time slots, figuring out which calls were hers, and which ones were Sebastian's. Doubt felt like an infectious disease, and Clary couldn't find anything to cure it from her system. And it had infected her, spreading even more when she saw the last call made was one that she had no recollection of making, even though it was familiar.

835-276-8346

She felt herself bite her lip as she wracked her brain for any phone numbers that she memorized. But it being past 1 AM, her brain was jumbling up the numbers and blurring together. Soon enough, Clary was staring at the paper with her elbow planted on her crossed knee and hand supporting her forehead. She couldn't remember what was so important about the paper then as a headache ensued from her temple. Clary closed her eyes for a moment, just to clear the pounding sensation, lulling, lulling her to sleep…

* * *

"Did you fall asleep there?" Sebastian laughed, shaking her shoulder.

Clary nearly jumped out of her seat, gasping loudly until realizing that it was just Sebastian getting ready for the day, his suspenders hanging while he buttoned up his white, dress shirt.

"Oh…I must have gotten up to get a glass of water and fallen asleep before I finished it." Clary responded, her words slurring together tiredly, but really, she felt herself panicking, trembling almost from fear that he would find her out, that she'd been checking the phone records to figure out who he was recently corresponding with.

"Then where's the glass?" Sebastian frowned, his dark and alert eyes studying her and the coffee table. Clary hoped beyond hope that he hadn't noticed the sheet of paper in her lap. Any sudden movement and he would immediately notice.

When Clary didn't say anything, but just stared at him blankly, he laughed good-humoredly. "You obviously haven't had as much sleep as you should of late. Anything to do with me?" he winked at her, turning his back to check himself in the mirror mounted onto the wall, hanging over the fireplace.

Clary didn't waste a second; she crumpled it into a ball shoved it straight down her night robe, grimacing at the crinkling noises and the odd lump just above her left breast. But she had no time to adjust it as Sebastian finished adjusting his sleek, shiny hair and grabbed his suit coat, where it was slung inconveniently on the opposite end of her sofa from where she sat.

Sebastian beamed at her as he thrust his arms through the sleeves and sat right next to her once the task was done. He lifted her chin, but instead of kissing her, he just studied her. Which was the last thing she wanted at the moment. He would notice the odd lump protruding from her chest any minute now.

At least Clary would know if her future husband was a pervert or not.

Clary could feel her eyes widen as he leaned closer to her, close enough for her to notice the ball of paper shifting against his shoulder. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, praying that he wouldn't feel it.

"I love you; you know that right?" he said quietly, his breath pushing back a few strands of stray hair out of her face.

Clary could only nod as the small wad of paper moved lower against his arm. He couldn't notice it. He _couldn't_ notice. Clary conceded that a distraction was needed.

Closing whatever small distance between them, Clary pulled him onto her, her hand fiercely gripping his hair, while he reflexively gripped at the back of her robe into fists, his mouth firm and rushed against hers.

Yesterday, Clary would've enjoyed this, but now, she felt too mixed up inside about Sebastian without responding robotically.

"You're distracting me." Sebastian heaved, pulling away from her with much reluctance. "I have places I need to be."

"Alright." Clary pretended to sigh, smiling sadly at him. "I might just hang around the suite today and work out some wedding plans. Maybe catch up on sleep that you've taken away from me these past few nights." she winked at him, grinning saucily.

"I'll leave you to it, then." he was about to leave, when Clary stopped him.

"Sebastian," Clary considered then if she should tell him what she'd done; that she had been prying in his personal things. "Your suspenders are still loose."

Sebastian looked down and smiled. "Right."

XXX

The minute the door closed, Clary bolted to her room, pulling off her robe and slinging it sloppily around a random chair, the little paper ball rolling onto the floor. That cursed little thing.

She slipped on some underwear and shimmied into a random dress and tights, hopping from foot to foot as she pulled on some short heels, and combed through her short hair once.

Nearly two minutes after Sebastian left, Clary was running down the stairs, hoping that he hadn't reached the main lobby yet. She nearly caught up to him down the street since he was, luckily, walking to whatever agenda he had planned. It was a long shot that he was going to see whoever the unknown correspondent was, but if stalking Sebastian all day meant that her worries and doubts would be appeased, then it was worth it. And then she could she marry him _happily._

The day was coming up too soon to ignore. The planning was mostly done while their engagement was still a secret, so now, with it out in the open, it wouldn't be long now. And with every passing day, she could feel herself grow more and more unsure of herself.

* * *

Sebastian walked into an old diner called "Taki's." Clary'd seen it before, but never gone inside, looking like it was old and run-down.

She creeped closer to the window, peering inside to see whom he had planned to meet. And when Clary saw the golden curls of Kaelie's hair, she felt her heart stutter to a stop, before beginning to race uncontrollably.

* * *

Clary lay in bed, Sebastian's arm slung around her side. His heavy breathing told her that he was fast asleep. So she pulled his hand off of her and sat on the edge of her bed, feeling drained and numb.

Her own best friend. Kaelie. Her own fiancé. Sebastian.

Going behind her back intentionally. Both lying to her face.

Maybe one day she would be happy with Sebastian. Clary had believed him. Believed Kaelie.

Perhaps she just trusted too easily, and this was all her fault. All Clary wanted to do was call Hodge, tell him everything, but something stopped her.

* * *

**3 weeks later**

Aline Penhallow's promotion ad was nearly done, despite the fact that Sebastian was trying to slow everything down immensely. He had met with her at least three times already at Aline's suite, and would be again hopefully after the concert ended. Sebastian sat alert in his seat, his foot tapping along with melody and knee occasionally brushing against hers.

Sebastian glanced occasionally in her direction with a scrutinizing gaze. But whenever Clary raised her eyebrows in question, he would just shake his head and force a smile. "Nothing." he mouthed, slinging one arm over her chair.

The concert was nearly finished when Clary grew so self conscious of Sebastian's staring, she exploded. "What?"

Sebastian frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You keep on sending covert glances the whole concert at me and it's starting to annoy me."

"It's annoying you is it?" Sebastian chuckled darkly, more of a sneer really.

Clary's eyebrows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Because I always found that people prying into others private things was quite _annoying_ as well."

She gulped. He knew about how she'd been following him. He'd somehow found her out. But she was overly surprised when he raised his balled up fist and drop a crumpled paper ball onto her lap.

"Wh-" Sebastian had already turned his head to pay attention to the concert. Tentatively, Clary unwrapped the paper and felt her jaw drop. How had he come across this?

"Sebas-"

"It's obvious that you don't trust me, so why just keep going on about it?" Sebastian snapped.

"You don't know what I was going through-" Clary pleaded, forming the paper into a ball again.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" he shook his head, mouth parted in disgust. "You resorted to _looking at my telephone call history_? Who does that?"

Clary felt tears forming behind her lids. "I asked you! And you lied to me! You said she was an old friend from school-"

"Because Kaelie _is_ an old friend. We never went to the same schools, but our parents used to. We were childhood friends before she moved."

"And you somehow failed to tell me that this 'old friend' was Kaelie?" Clary's voice shook, spectators around them giving her half annoyed and half concerned looks.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you would freak out!" Sebastian frowned. "If you had known that I was meeting up with Kaelie a couple of times to settle whatever was left between us-"

"You're right." Clary snapped. "I never would've let you go." She got up from her chair abruptly and stormed out of the theatre.

She couldn't handle any more of his lies. Clary was sick of Sebastian's constant deceitfulness, kissing her and loving her, but leaving her to whatever he had planned with Kaelie.

How could she marry him in a week if she was this angry? How could she even look at him without cringing? Clary leaned against the tall, cement building, cooling her forehead against the rock. Her heavy breathing came out in quickly, white clouds of mist puffing from her mouth.

Clary still loved Sebastian; she had concluded that. She wasn't able to get over the attraction and the need to care and love for someone as deeply as she had for Sebastian so quickly. But resentment, untrust…it was spurring on the process to hate and dislike.

And the question of the wedding next week…

Clary felt her knees give and crouched on the ground. Groaning, she hid her face behind her fingers, sighing once before peeking through them as a sound of footsteps echoed against the street. Clary frowned and released her face, pressing the palms of her hands onto the ground and lifting herself up.

"Hodge?" she asked.

"Clarissa!" he gasped, running across the sidewalk to her and embracing her in a warm hug. "What happened?"

Tears that Clary didn't know were there slid off her face and onto his thick, wool coat. Gray like the rest of him. Hodge. The dearest and most devoted friend she'd ever had.

"Sebast-" Clary tried to say, but her throat seemed to close down, a thickness choking her words. Hodge only hushed her when she tried to say more, stroking her short hair fervently. "How about I take you for dinner?" Hodge smiled when he released her, and she smiled back tearily and a little weakly.

* * *

Hodge didn't press her for words until a waitress set down Clary's order. "What happened?"

Clary shook her head, taking a deep gulp of water before explaining. "Hodge…Sebastian's been visiting Kaelie the past week or two…without telling me. Specifically calling her an 'old friend from school.' And he knows that I would've-and am- furious! We're about to be married…and then he pulls a stunt like this…" Clary sighed and supported her head with one hand. "I have no idea what to do."

"Surely you're not going to go through with the wedding?" Hodge stared, a peculiar look upon his face.

"I…I don't know. I mean I haven't had much time to think about this."

"How long have you known about Sebastian and Kaelie?"

"About two and half weeks." Clary bit her lip, realizing that a decision should've been made by now.

"And you still can't figure it out?" Hodge frowned, his voice morphing from understanding to accusing. "What happened at the theatre then, if you didn't just find out."

"He…well, I found out because I suspected he'd been calling the person he was corresponding with. So I asked for my telephone call history at the front desk. And I guess I didn't get rid of the thing like I should've. And he found it and showed me in there…"

"And that's when you told him you knew." Hodge nodded, concluding her sentence for her.

"And Sebastian didn't even think he was doing anything wrong, too!" Clary rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. Maybe she had been at fault as well; she should've just asked him up front instead of following him and prying into his personal details.

"And you still think you might marry him?" Hodge slumped in his chair to stare incredulously at her and shook his head

Clary bit her lip. "Maybe?..."

Hodge sighed and got up from his seat, kneeling down next to her chair. "Clary…you haven't seen this kind of man before. But I have. I know what he'll do for the rest of his life with you. He'll treat you second best to whatever other women he's entertaining, claim your title in your business, perhaps gamble your fortune and your future away…"

Hodge's lips tightened in a thin line. "I care about you, Clarissa…and this man…he'll only bring sorrow into your life. You'll lose your fire, your passion, he'll turn you weather-beaten and docile. And you won't even realize the transformation. Please, Clarissa, don't do this to yourself. Don't feel obligated to marry him because you promised him your heart months ago.

He isn't a good man…if you won't do it for yourself…do it...do it for me…your friend." his voice cracked and staggered near the end, but his aged face only revealed his care for her. Lips trembling and hand shaking, he touched her wrist and grasped for Clary's hand. "Please. I'm begging you. Don't do this to yourself."

Clary's lips parted in shock, her breathing uneven and quick. There was no way to process to examine all that he had said and begged for. He wanted her to stay with him and the company, abandon the would-be penniless Sebastian and make a living, perhaps alone, forever. When was the next time she'd fall in love again? Or even allow herself, at least?

This betrayal from Sebastian was wearing away everything she'd thought good about herself. Clary always trusted so easily, and now…how could she ever? Maybe Hodge was right. Maybe she would be miserable and change with Sebastian. But maybe he was wrong, and Clary could learn of a way to forgive Sebastian and live happily. Plus, the wedding plans were already complete; it would be more of a hassle to cancel it than actually proceeding on with the engagement.

"I…I don't know, Hodge." Clary forced herself to say.

"But…but you don't need him!" Hodge spluttered, suddenly growing red in the face. "You shouldn't want him either!"

"It's more complicated than that!"' Clary raised her voice in surprise.

"Don't marry him! It's as simple as that." Hodge's hand squeezed hers tightly, the tips of her fingers growing red.

"No, it isn't! I just told you! There are too many factors-"

"What are they then!?" Hodge yelled, wringing her hand even harder now.

"Ow! Stop it!" Clary ripped her hand away from his, clutching it protectively in her own. She massaged it for a few seconds before the redness finally disappeared. And then she turned her gaze to Hodge, matching his glare with her own. "What is _wrong with you?_"

"Give me the reasons you are second guessing yourself with, and I _will_ help you." he ground out.

Clary only shook her head, not sure she wanted him to convince her. "They're private reasons, thank you. I think I can decide for myself, since _I am_ an adult." she snapped.

"What?" he sneered, "Did you screw each other and now you're knocked up?"

The hand he had just been holding onto so tightly a few minutes ago, flashed as quick as a whip against his face. The satisfying sound resonated throughout the room, drawing many eyes to them.

"_How dare you."_ Clary said forcefully through gritted teeth. "That is my business, and my business alone." Clary got up from her chair and thrust her arms through her light, fall jacket, ignoring his hurt expression. Although she wasn't showing it, Clary felt like she was about to break down into tears. "It especially isn't your concern, out of all people."

Clary successfully kept her voice from cracking and firmly placed her hat on her head before grabbing her hand bag. "Wait!" Hodge cried, scrambling off his knees and holding onto Clary's sleeve. "Where are you going!?"

Clary pulled her arm away from his sickening touch. She stared at him, his desperate, gray eyes shining. "I don't know." she told him honestly, shrugging. "Anywhere but here. I feel suffocated by this city," she threw him a pointed look, "and the people. I need to get away."

Clary turned to leave again, but Hodge caught hold of her again. "Tell me." he asked her pleadingly. "Set my mind at ease. _Please."_

Clary sighed, gripping his wrist and gently pulling it off her. "I think I'll visit my mother's old country house, maybe visit her. I should be back before the end of the weekend."

Hodge only nodded and bit his lip as he watched her go. "Be careful!" was all he called before she walked out the doors and back to her apartment.

**There is one girl who is sooooo so close with her theory, it's freaky. Maybe this chapter confirmed some things for some people, or "illuminated' the killer, as Hodge said it would. **

**Oh! Speaking of! What did you think about his behavior? Did you think it was a little justified, even though it was pretty harsh? I'll tell you what I think in the my PM back to you, if you are interested, and tell me your reasoning. **_**Again**_**, I will only tell you if you tell me your reasoning, because I'm very much curious to what everyone thinks.**

**And your thoughts on Sebastian? A lot of people were suspecting him and Kaelie and an affair, and I think I made it pretty obvious that **_**something**_** was happening between the two of them. Anyone hate Sebastian more than I do right now?**

**Leave a review please!**

**-Lau**


	10. The Situation of Alec Lightwood

**WOW! The response I got from last chapter was fantastic! Such long and wonderful reviews! Everyone had really good theories, and sadly, I can't say much about it. I'm such a sucker for you guys though, I think I may slip one day and tell someone.**

**Thanks to everyone who followed and reviewed! I've hit a milestone in this: After 10 chapters, I've had over 10,000 views of the story, over 120 follows and reviews, and over 50 favorites! This is fantastic guys! Keep it up!**

**-Lau**

Jace sat back in his swively chair. The story from Hodge had given him a tremendous headache from thinking over and over. Sebastian was a complete scumbag: he'd been able to conclude to that easily. But Hodge…maybe he'd tried to paint Sebastian as an awful person more than he already was to keep Jace's suspicion's away from himself.

Hodge was very intelligent-and Jace could acclaim to it-devious. Hodge could easily have all fingers pointed at Sebastian and get off the hook from the murder. But the only problem was: Hodge and Sebastian had the worst motives to kill Clarissa.

What could Hodge possibly gain from killing Clarissa? _Other_ than a lifetime of loneliness and suffering? Maybe Clarissa's business earnings if it was in her will. But why would he want that? Hodge was doing just fine with his writings in the newspaper, and very well off. At least if Clarissa were to marry Sebastian, she still would've been able to talk and dine with Hodge all the time. At least that was better than memories that would soon escape his memory as he grew older.

And Sebastian…Jace knew that he came from a wealthy family who'd cut him off a few years back after gambling away half of his fortune. And, griping for money, strayed from Kaelie to the young, rich, and successful Clarissa Fairchild. He'd been able to charm her easily, convince Clarissa that they really were in love…

But why kill her? To be with Kaelie? Wouldn't running away be much easier and cleaner than _killing_ someone? After all, Sebastian had already run from someone once before; he should be experienced.

And that left Kaelie…Jace chewed on his pencil, fingering her profile. After holding the file so much, the edges were wrinkled from water stains. How had she let herself love Sebastian again? Closure was needed after what he'd done to her, so Jace understood them meeting at least once during the engagement. But to kill her own best friend over it?

After being friends for years after school, one would think that nothing, especially a man, would ever break them apart. Love can always tear people apart, but to the point of murder?

Jace sighed, kneading his forehead. Out of all the suspects, Kaelie had the best motive.

But if she had been at it with Sebastian, couldn't she just seduce him into leaving Clarissa? Kaelie was beautiful; it couldn't have been that hard to resist her.

Picking up his telephone, Jace rung up a number he'd memorized from the file. Perhaps it was time to broaden the field.

XXX.

Jace pounded once on the door. It had taken him half an hour to leave the city and reach the suburbs. The lawn in front of the small house was well trimmed, a few flowers along the flowerbed. The door was a pristine white, a blue trim around it, matching the rest of the house. Jace narrowed his eyes; was that glitter on the placemat?

The door opened to a young man, scrutinizingly studying him for a few seconds. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually you can." Jace lifted his badge, "Does Magnus Bane live here?"

"Uh…yes." his blue eyes widened at him, "Mind if I ask what Magnus has done for the attention of the police?"

"I just have some questions on a client he worked with a few months ago."

"Well, come in. I'll get him."

The man left then, leaving Jace to study their living area. It was bright and airy with great big windows taking up most of the back wall. A Persian rug covered most of the perimeter of the room, a few paintings hanging around. The largest one in the room was a self portrait, an Asian man saucily winking at him.

Frowning, Jace sat down on one of the chairs right as the dark haired man came in with another in tow. "Magnus Bane." he stood up from where he sat, holding out his hand. Magnus shook it warmly, beaming at him before taking a seat with the man across from Jace.

Jace sat on the edge of the cushion, resuming his normal procedure by pulling out his notepad and pen. "I'm sure you've heard of the recent murder in the city?"

Magnus shook his head. "I've lost count after all these years. Who was the unfortunate person?"

"Clarissa Fairchild."

Magnus frowned, biting his lip as he tried to remember her. "Nope, I never knew her. Clarissa sounds a bit familiar, though."

Jace nodded. "She ran in the same social circles as you. She was a freelancing advertiser." Jace looked down at his notes again, even though he didn't need to. "She was actually working with an old client of yours for your modeling business before she died."

The other man's brows furrowed. "Who was it?"

"Aline Penhallow."

Both stoic expressions changed then, one of understanding, and another of disgust. Magnus nodded several times, while the other wrinkled his nose in a grimace. "You remember her?"

Magnus laughed. "Oh, we _know_ her. I don't think anyone can forget a woman like Aline."

"What is she like?"

The two glanced at each other, both trying to hold back smiles. "Overbearing."

"Demanding."

"Impatient."

"Selfish."

Jace's eyebrows rose when Magnus said, "Whore."

"And she was very beautiful…She had at least that going for her."

"Is she a suspect?"

Jace shook his head. "Not sure yet. I have about three other suspects currently."

"Who are they?" Magnus asked, his eyes bright.

Jace chewed on the inside of his lip; he wasn't supposed to be giving out knowledge about the case, but they probably didn't even know who they were, anyways. What was the harm? "Kaelie Whitewillow, Sebastian Verlac, and Hodge Starkweather."

Magnus gasped then. "I know him!"

"Hodge?"

"Yes! Yes!" He exclaimed, smiling. "This is so exciting! It's like a murder mystery book! Hodge always seemed like a serial killer. I mean, no one with those eyes-"

"Magnus!" the other man hissed. "Shut up. You're being disrespectful."

"To who? The dead girl?" that comment received a slap on the side of the head.

"Sorry, Detective. Is there anything else we can help you with?" the blue eyed man smiled again, a little beside himself.

Jace shook his head. "No, thank you. I should be getting back to the city soon."

The three men stood up, Jace shaking hands with both of them. "Thank you for your help…"

"Alec." the man responded quickly. "Glad to help."

"And…" Magnus drawled, taking a step closer and handed him a card. "If you're ever interested, you could come by a take a few shoots. You have an incredible face…and body." Magnus winked saucily, just like the portrait. Alec shrugged helplessly and mouthed a "Sorry" over his partner's shoulder.

Jace wasn't sure if another man had made him blush before, but Magnus had succeeded. "Uh…maybe. Thanks." he stumbled, walking quickly out the door.

Once safely back on his motorcycle, Jace zoomed off back to the city, sighing in exhaustion. It had been a long day behind the desk. Jace hadn't done anything social the whole week, the investigation taking up more than half of his life.

And the minute Jace would return to his ruddy apartment, collapsing onto his bed was the first thing on his to-do list.

**Hiya guys, how did you like it? I have a must see on my profile about my situation on the computer. It really sucks, but I'm still trying to work as hard as I can on here with the given time. So, if you want to check out that, then I'm sure you'll understand more on why updates will be later and later. **

**Anyways, your thoughts? I got to add Magnus and Alec, which is**** not what I was planning, but it helps keep the flow better than I thought it would. It's a good setup for next chapter. :D**

**-Lau**


	11. The Situation of Seelie Queen

**I am currently binge writing! It's fun, and it's what I used to do when I was writing and posting my first story, The Midnight Flower. Maybe if I write shorter chapters, I can update twice during the weekend! **

**Ha, maybe! I wish, at least. I'm so glad that a lot of you enjoyed Magnus! I was a little self conscious that I wouldn't be able to write him well…but I guess, if you like it, I'll continue!**

**Guest: I'm hoping that the meeting will happen sometime within the next ten chapters….;D**

**Also...Wow! So many people have been favoriting and following! Thank you! you guys warm my heart!**

**-Lau**

Once again, Jace found himself pounding on a door. Only this time, no one was answering. Jace slammed his palm against the door in frustration, biting his lip when the pain came more sharply than he was prepared for. "Ow…" he breathed, one hand clutching his wrist, the other shaking away the tenderness.

A car was parked on the driveway, one light from the kitchen was on. But no one was coming to answer the door. He'd stood out in the rain the past ten minutes, screaming and pounding the door; Jace was surprised he hadn't broken the hinges yet.

He frowned, glaring at the door. He had no warrant to kick down the door, so how could he explain to Chief he'd went against the law to prove a hunch? And one with very miniscule proof?

Jace's hat started to become soggy and damp from the rain, freezing his temples and curling the edges of his hair. He tried to smooth them down; in his teen years, they were a permanent feature. But once he'd reached adulthood, the strands mostly straightened out.

Sighing, Jace left the front door and sprinted out across the sidewalk, shoes kicking puddles in his wake and successfully soaking his ankles completely. This house had a porch, thankfully, to hide under. Jace knocked thrice on Aline's neighbor's door, taking off his sopping hat and wrung out his infuriating curls. Goosebumps formed up and down his arms legs, spreading straight down to his toes where Jace could feel the squish in his socks each time he stepped.

The door opened barely a minute later, revealing a tall woman with dark red hair and brilliant blue eyes. The woman stared at him, eyeing his soiled clothing and damp hair. "I'm not interested in buying anything if that's the case." She said abruptly.

Jace laughed nervously, "Uh...no, actually. That's no it at all." He showed her his badge. "Jonathan Herondale; I'm with the police department. I was wondering if you could tell me about your neighbor, Aline Penhallow?

Her forehead creased. "What did she do?"

"She may be a suspect in a murder case." He replied vaguely – last time he'd let his tongue loose ended in an embarrassing disaster.

A hand clapped over her mouth, "What did she _do_?"

"Nothing yet, ma'am," he reassured her, "nothing I can prove. She isn't at her house; do you know where she might be?"

"Well..." the woman finally noticed how pathetic and cold Jace looked, standing on her porch while the rain poured like buckets behind him. "How about you come inside and dry...I have a fire going; we can talk there."

Jace gratefully stepped inside, peeling off his trench coat, suit jacket, and the sopping hat. His white dress shirt was unpleasantly clingy to his skin, the tightness of his suspenders irritating his skin.

She introduced herself as Seelie Queen, and sat down quickly. Inside, the living room indeed had a fire crackling quietly, several couches and ottomans filling the space. Jace sat down on the arm of a plush chair, pulling out his notes from Magnus and Alec. "Do you know Aline very well?"

Seelie shook her head. "I only know Meliorn across the street. I just moved here a year or so ago."

"So you don't know what Ms. Penhallow does at all?"

"Oh, I know that she is a model. Aline has a pretty face, very exotic looking. I think she'll do well."

"Perhaps." Jace mumbled, scribbling done a few things. Aline, like Clary had been, was hard to judge at first. Aline so far Jace knew nothing about. Clary, however, he knew almost like the back of his hand. She seemed so real.

"Do you know when she left?"

Seelie shrugged. "A few days ago."

"Was it by any chance, four?"

Ms. Queen snapped her fingers. "Yes! Four days ago!"

Jace held his breath; the time frame to kill Clary was a very, very small one, and if Aline could fit into that…His hunch would be proven. "Can you remember when that was maybe? Was it in the evening?"

"I remember now! She slammed her door loudly so I got up to see." Seelie stood up and clutched the back of her chair with her fists. "Someone picked her up right after I finished dinner. She looked nice I and thought she was going out with someone."

"And when do you usually eat dinner?" Jace scribbled down more, his thought process was vigorous.

"Between 6 to 6:30. But that depends on-"

Jace sat up in his chair, standing abruptly. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Queen. I think it's time I head back to the station."

"But it's still raining!"

Jace shrugged into his cold jacket and trench coat, grabbing the hat as he opened the front door. "Have a nice day, miss!" he beamed at her and closed the door.

The car Jace had borrowed was from the station, and someone needed it right after him. He'd have to hail a taxi once he got back to finish up his plans for today.

XXX.

Jonathan walked in a little after noon, a sheet of paper in his hands. "Jocelyn Fairchild."

"Hmm?" Jace glanced up from the timeline he had made.

"Clarissa's mother?" Jonathan looked at him oddly, "You alright? You look a little distracted."

"It's…nothing. I'm just…frustrated."

"Sexually?"

Jace sighed and rolled his eyes at his friend. "No, not particularly."

Jonathan sprawled in a chair across the desk from Jace. "Then what's bothering you?"

The file page of Clarissa never strayed too far from Jace, and he studied her picture now. Was it Clarissa that was bothering him?

**Again, another short chapter, but I might be able to update again before Sunday ends. It'll be about this short again, which I know isn't much to review about, and that most of you have already said your theory, but I still love to hear from you guys! **

**Since reviews have been down, I'm willing to send a snippet of the next chapter like I did a couple chapters ago. I have a little bit down, so is that considered ahead?**

**So what do you think about Aline? Any assumptions to where she might be right now? Where she ties into everything? Hopefully I can get Jace to start thinking about Clarissa, and more than just the victim….more intimately…**

**-Lau **


	12. The Situation of Dorothea

**I'm baaaaaaaacccckkkkk! I really liked this chapter; some humor, more complications for poor Jace and his case, and of course, more questions!  
**

**Also, I updated a chapter right after I saw a lovely review from a guest and didn't have a chance to respond to it. So here you are!**

_**Guest: I hope that this was soon enough of an update! A week always feels so long, you know? I'm glad your enjoying the story! I LOVE mysteries too, and I've found that it's much harder writing one than actually reading it. It always sucks when an author leaves an awful plot hole. I hope you continue to read and review the story and enjoy it!**_

"What did the country house look like when you got in?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Like any normal country house. Empty and quiet. Not completely dusty or anything like that."

"Did it look like someone went through there or anything?"

Jonathan shook his head. "I mean, if someone came through for a couple days, I wouldn't have noticed a difference. The dishes weren't dusty altogether, and when I called up Clarissa's mother in Brocelind, she said she'd been there not long ago."

"Thanks." Jace said, "That helped a lot."

"Don't mind me asking you, but what did you expect to find there?"

Jace bit his lip. "I'm not sure."

Jonathan turned to go, when Jace stopped him. "Wait, I have one last thing I need to ask you."

Jonathan turned and nodded, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

Jace grinned. "What kind of wine do you think Clarissa liked?"

XXX.

Jace got to Clarissa's hotel room at dinner time. The lights were turned on inside, which Jace remembered turning off. "Jonathan?" he called.

"Yep?" a blonde head peeked over his shoulder to see inside.

Jace craned his head to look at Jonathan and rolled his eyes. "Why are the lights on?"

Jonathan frowned then. "Uh...I didn't go inside. I was out front the door most of the time."

"_Most of the time?_" Jace repeated incredulously. "Where did you have to go?"

"A man has to use the toilet_ sometimes_!"

"You could have just held it!" Jace thumped the back of his friend's head. "How old are you really?"

"When you have to go, you have to go."

"There's a tree right there!"

Jonathan stared at him like he was crazy. "There's no way in _hell_ I'm going to pee on that tree!"

Jace forced himself to not smile; if someone had gotten inside, who knew what kind of stuff they were doing? A thief or looter, a suspect destroying evidence...

Jace rushed inside, his gun pulled out of his holster for the first for this case and held it up cautiously. The suite looked untouched, if not cleaner than normal, the spotted mirror washed clean. Jace narrowed his eyes and lowered his gun.

He crept forward towards the kitchen door; a light peaked through the cracks underneath the closed door. Jace never went in there much, mostly because the thought of eating a dead person's food was quite gruesome and disgusting in his opinion. Taking a deep breath, Jace turned the knob and shoved the door open. "FREEZE!"

A high pitch scream emitted after he barged in, followed by a loud clanging of fallen pots. In the middle of the narrow kitchen stood a very distraught, old black woman, her frizzy hair tucked into a bandana. Her big hands were up and trembling.

"Who are you?" Jace kept his gun pointed at her, which only made the terrified woman shake even more.

"D-d-dor-r-othea, sir." She stuttered, closing her eyes and whimpering.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked coldly and calmly.

"I'm Ms. Fairchild's maid, sir." She whispered.

"You know that she's dead, then?"

Dorothea looked near to tears. "I know." She choked out.

"Then what are you doing in here? You're trespassing onto a crime scene."

"I just...wanted to...finish my job," the woman began to cry–big, ugly sobs wracking through her body.

Jace lowered his gun; perhaps he had terrified her too much. She was obviously just a half–crazed, pathetic creature who loved her mistress very much.

"Jonathan?" he called.

"Everything okay?" Jonathan rushed in, gun pointed at Dorothea again. The poor woman began to sob even more.

"Just Clarissa's maid."

"Oh...but what did she come in here for?" Jonathan blinked.

The two men looked up to stare at Dorothea for the answer. Like a deer in headlights, she mumbled something inaudible, less teary eyed and shaky.

"Sorry?" Jace took a step closer to her, when her arm shot out to grab his in a surprisingly tight grip.

Jace naturally recoiled, nearly jumping out of his skin.

"Miss Fairchild is not dead!" she shook his arm again, a crazy look in her eye. "She isn't _dead_!"

The woman obviously lost her bonkers a while ago. "Woman, get off me!" Jace shook her, prying her fingernails from his arm. "Clarissa's body was found-"

"You're wrong! Her spirit hasn't passed over yet!" she shouted, hand grasping for something to hold onto.

Jonathan and Jace exchanged looks. Chief had been right; Dorothea was too inept to succeed in a murder. She'd leave a mistake somewhere all too quickly.

"Perhaps you should go home-" Jonathan tried to pat the old woman's shoulder, but she only flinched away, finally finding a large wooden spoon to point at them. "I'm warning you," she hissed, waving the utensil threateningly at them, "don't touch me again. I'm not crazy, I'm telling the truth!"

They shared another look; both of them decided that the best way to get her out of the suite was to decapitate her. "Alright. Alright." Jace said in a higher, gentler tone. "I believe you."

Dorothea's lips trembled, "You do?"

Jace nodded, smiling at her charmingly. "How about I lower my gun, and you lower your…" Jace paused and frowned, thinking how ridiculous this situation was. He began to crouch closer to the floor. "…your _spoon_, and we can talk about this."

The old woman nodded slowly, struggling to kneel because of her age, and Jace took the opportunity to snap his wrist, gun still in hand, and slam it against her forehead. Dorothea fell with a sickening thud to the floor.

"Crazy old bat." Jonathan muttered.

"Not the first we've seen, either." Jace reminded him, shoving the gun back in its holster.

"Well, what do we do with her?" Jonathan nudged her leg with his foot, his hands tugging his suspenders.

"Take her back to her room, of course." Jace stated the obvious.

"_What?_" Jonathan stared at him like he was crazy. "She's _huge_." he hissed.

Jace only rolled his eyes. "She's not that big. Plus her room is right next to this one, so we just have to drag her from this room to hers, and then when the others get here, no one will know-"

"Know what?" a female voice came from the other side of the door, a blonde head poking through "OH MY-"

"Shut up!" Jonathan yelled, running over to the door and hushing the very stunned Kaelie Whitewillow.

"Did you…Did you kill her?" she whispered, a hand over her heart.

"Really, I wouldn't kill a woman for cleaning up her dead employer's home." Jace explained exasperatedly. "I just knocked her out."

"Oh, and that somehow excuses this?!" Kaelie shouted, her blue eyes wide in anger.

"Look," Jace took hold of the woman's arm and dragged her out of the kitchen, Kaelie still trying to glance over her shoulder at Dorothea, some drool dripping onto the white-washed floor from her wide open mouth, "She'll be fine. I'm having Jonathan take her back to her room where she can wake up restfully."

"_Me?_" Jonathan shouted back to him through the closed door in unbelief.

Jace hid a grin as he heard Jonathan mutter something about Jace being the next murder victim if he had anything to do with it, and a few groans that were followed with a dragging sound.

"What is it you really wanted from me?" Kaelie studied him, sitting down in one of the sofas under Clarissa's large portrait.

"I won't reveal that until Sebastian gets here." he sat down across from her, folding his arms.

"I hope you forget the idea that he and I are together; I _loved_ Clarissa. I wouldn't ever harm her."

He considered this; from Hodge's side of the story, most of the blame fell on Sebastian, with Kaelie just a side character. Perhaps she was just a person who'd gotten caught up at the wrong time in the wrong place. "And Sebastian…"

Her necked inflamed. "Sebastian doesn't have anything to do with me!"

"Oh, really?"

"Sebastian is just an old friend."

"Who was once your fiance…" Jace studied her, how her jaw and knuckles clenched, fists turning white, and the intense glare she was sending his way. _Terrible temper_…

"That was a mistake." she replied through her teeth. "It wouldn't have worked out anyways."

"But you two met up still just a few weeks before the wedding…continually."

Her face paled. "How do you know about that?"

Jace smirked; perhaps Kaelie wasn't as innocent as she seemed. "I read it from one of Clarissa's journals." he lied, leaning forward. "She suspected Sebastian was meeting with some girl, and followed him one day. Clarissa saw you two together."

Kaelie covered her face with her hands. "Did she really see that?" she groaned.

"I'm afraid that yes, she saw the both of you. The situation probably didn't help that Sebastian lied to her about who he was meeting."

"We were…_weren't_ doing anything." Kaelie spoke, her voice muffled by her hands. She finally clasped her hands on her lap. "I was the one to ask for it…the meeting." she explained. "You see, I wasn't completely over him, and maybe I still haven't been able to let it go…but when he came back…I _had_ to talk to him. I needed closure from that relationship and that awful, _awful_ pain.

"He agreed to meet me at an old diner we used to eat at when we were…together and…well…we just sort of began to plan to meet each other during the day."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "In _secret_."

"I know it sounds bad and that it makes me look like an awful friend – "

"Terrible really." Jace added in.

" – but I _promise_ that I never took it any further than that." Kaelie pleaded, her big blue eyes glistening. "Please believe me."

Jace considered this. She looked so innocent and lovely; was she really telling the truth? Jace had heard this story hundreds of times, but this was probably was the most convincing. Perhaps she was telling the truth, and she actually did care about Clarissa, but just went about one thing wrongly and suspiciously. Maybe it was all Sebastian.

But Kaelie was the only one with a good motive. And Sebastian's and Hodge's didn't make sense.

Jace involuntarily groaned out loud.

"Sorry?" Kaelie frowned at him.

"It's...nothing...Just thinking." Jace rubbed an eye, jumping from his seat to look at the wine display in the back corner of the living room. He heard Kaelie get up and follow him, but he ignored her. Once he concentrated at the task at hand, there was nothing that could distract Jace from his job.

After tirelessly studying the hotel room inventory the night before, Jace found one thing unpredicted. And of all things, it was the wine.

Instead of the usual expensive, red wine, one brand stuck out like a sore thumb: Blackstone. A kind of wine Jace was well familiar with because of his small income. Such a cheap kind was bought easily in grocery store – why would Clarissa change her tastes so randomly?

"Do you need a drink that badly?" Kaelie knelt down next to him, glaring scrutinizingly at him.

"Actually, yes." Jace opened the glass doors and pulled out the Blackstone bottle in the first row. "Everyone is currently giving me anxiety – Ah! Look! It's been opened for me already." Jace showed her cheerfully. He'd been expecting it to be.

Jace set the bottle down on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen, grabbing four wine glasses from the cupboard. Sitting back down on the comfy sofa, Jace sighed and poured himself some wine, taking a small sip. He instantly recoiled; it was bitter and nothing like wine should taste. He set the wine on the table distastefully; Jace was immediately reminded of why he _hated _cheap wine.

The door opened then, Sebastien marching in. "Hello, detective. Have a nice evening?"

"Yes, actually." Jace answered off–handedly. "When you came in, was there a man there?"

Sebastian frowned. "Yes, but why – "

"It's nothing." Jonathan was sometimes unreliable, even with his own job, when he got angry. "Now how about you sit down next to Kaelie, and we can begin."

"Okay..." Sebastian said slowly, cautiously sitting down next to Kaelie. Neither of them acknowledged each others existence.

"How about you pour yourself a glass of wine, Sebastian?" Jace leaned forward, elbows resting on his split knees.

Sebastian frowned, tugging on the collar of his fine suit. "Is this Clarissa's?"

Jace slouched back in his seat and smirked, hands clasped contentedly. Narrowing his eyes at Sebastian, he answered, "No."

"Oh." Sebastian reached for the bottle of wine slowly, like he suspected that Jace had poisoned the drink.

"There's nothing wrong with it, I swear."

"But – " And then there was the reaction Jace had been waiting for, the confirmation to his suspicions. It was just the smallest tremble in his right hand, the one pouring it into his glass. He'd seen the bottle and its brand.

And then the small tremor was gone and Sebastian set it down gently. He held the blood red liquid to his mouth and took a large gulp. Smacking his lips contentedly, Sebastian held the glass in his fingertips. "Did you invite us over just to have some wine?"

Jace watched each movement hungrily. "Yes."

Sebastian looked taken back, but didn't have time to reply when the door burst open. "Jace, someone's here for you." Jonathan leaned in from outside.

Jace sighed. _Who was it now?_

**Hey guys! I miss writing during the week! And I miss you guys! I had a lot of this chapter done on Sunday, but it wasn't completely finished. But now at school I have a study hall during 3****rd**** hour, so I can go type out some stuff on the computer in one of the labs.**

**What did you think of the chapter? The wine? What was **_**that**_** all about? And who is the obvious person coming to see Jace at Clarissa's suite?**

**Also, a random question for you guys; I've been building up a bunch of words that I despise and that I think are particularly disgusting and cringe worthy. Here are some of them: Oozing (*shudder* I HATE this word), milking, damp, pasty, crumbly, and yes, moist, because how can you NOT hate that word? **_**Anyways, what are some words that **_**you**_** hate?**_

_**Review!**_

**-Lau**


	13. The Situation of Chief Morgenstern

**I got to update! I'm happy. But I don't think you should expect an update again until the weekend. Guest responses at the end!**

**Oooooh, and thanks for all those disgusting words...though I don't think I should necessarily _thank you_ for having those disgusting words to make me squirm in my chair. Well, nevertheless, thanks for all the delightful reviews!**

**-Lau**

"I'd like to discuss where Clarissa's possessions are going." Hodge walked purposefully into the room, brushing past Jonathan like he was a bothersome bug.

"Actually, since I have all of you here," Jace replied, "that is an excellent idea. Wine, Hodge?"

Mr. Starkweather narrowed his eyes at him before deciding. "If it's being provided, why not?"

"I agree." Jace smiled, Hodge sitting next to him. He handed the old man a glass, noticing a small exchange across from him. Sebastian was tilting his head toward Jace, glancing to the side covertly. Kaelie only gave the slightest shake of head. Sebastian frowned and brought the wine again to his lips and nodded again to her. Kaelie's eyes widened in understanding before taking a sip from her drink as well.

"Detective - "

"Just Jonathan, please." Jace corrected.

"Well, isn't Clarissa's will to Jocelyn? That's what I've heard at least." Kaelie said.

"My coworker, Jonathan Morgenstern, already asked her on the subject; he says that Jocelyn doesn't want a penny from her daughters will."

At the sound of a sharp intake of air, Jace darted to glance at Sebastian, who looked like he'd been struck by lightning. "But - "

"Not all of it will go to you, _Sebastian._" Hodge spat contentiously.

"That's not what was going to say!" Sebastian fired back.

"Then enlighten us!" Hodge commanded, sitting soldier-style, his spine so straight, Jace imagined it would snap any second.

"I was only…well, I was just going to say-"

"Come out with it already, you're killing me." Hodge said sarcastically.

"That Clarissa wouldn't want your filthy paws all over her stuff! She would toss and turn in her grave if you took one thing from here."

"Technically, she hasn't been buried yet." Jace said off-handedly. "Her body is still being examined by forensics." with this, Jace pulled out his book from his coat pocket and picked up from where he last left off. He heard Hodge grunt in annoyance but ignored him.

jace could feel both the men glaring at him for the interjection, but Kaelie only leaned forward, interested in this little bit of knowledge. "What's taking so long? Shouldn't the examination be done by now?"

Jace scratched his scalp and sighed, glancing up from his page. "Well, I'm not entirely sure. They promised one by the end of the week. Some complication with the damage done to her body, I suppose."

She shuddered as Jace went back to reading, covertly glancing up at them to see their reactions. "Poor Clarissa." she muttered.

"And then they'll have the funeral?" Hodge asked.

"Of course we'll have a funeral! What a stupid question!" Sebastian exclaimed. "What would stop her from being buried?"

"Actually, Jocelyn's only request was to have Clarissa's body cremated. Something of a family tradition, I guess. And the length of the forensics is possibly explained that instead of just digging her back from her grave to reexamine a mistake, they would have only ash to work with." Jace withheld a sigh. Either way, Clarissa's beauty would be gone, whether it slowly decayed, or went up in smoke. Of course, there was no face left to prove her beauty, half of the features blown off, and her lovely hair almost completely grazed from her scalp and splattered with dark, red blood all over the floor and walls on that terrible night…

"Then once the murderer is caught, Clarissa will have her funeral?"

"Yes. Her possessions should be decided about though. I know several pieces, such as her portrait, her wine collection, a clock -"

"Actually, that clock will be returned to me."

"Excuse me?"

Hodge explained, "The clock has a twin exactly identical to it in my apartment, and since it was a gift given to Clarissa, I believe that I should have it returned."

"I'm not really sure that it's up to you, _Mr. Starkweather_." Sebastian snarled, sending Hodge a dirty look.

"Fine then," Hodge remained calm and undeterred from Sebastian's comment, "I'll have to call my lawyer and work it out with the Station."

"That'll have to do." Jace replied, standing up and dusting off his pants. "I believe it is time for us all to leave."

"What for?" Kaelie questioned, placing her empty glass on the coffee table.

"I have to lock up the place for the night and get back to headquarters."

"And you wanted us to come for what…wine?" Sebastian asked, narrowing his eyes at Jace.

"yes, you guessed right, sir." Jace answered coolly, gesturing everyone to the door.

XXX.

"So," Chief Morgenstern was lounging in Jace's swively chair when he and Jonathan got back to Headquarters. "have you gotten any further in the case?"

Jonathan and Jace exchanged a glance. If anything, it was getting more complicated. The fact that Jace had to bring out the wine ordeal was a sure sign of well hidden tracks by the murderer. If he had to get down to the nitty-gritty parts of the case and exhaust every inch of evidence and explore every possible person, Jace knew that it would lead to a dead end, and the case would be closed.

Clarissa's body would be burned, and that would be the end of it: the end of the case, and Jace would continue on with whatever he had been doing with his life before then. But it would never be the same; he'd have to live with the fact that the law failed Clarissa, no…that _Jace_ had failed Clarissa.

"Not exactly…no." Jace admitted, grimacing at his unsure tone.

Morgenstern swore. "I thought by _now_ that you should be near an arrest! But to hear that you have not made any _significant headway_…what have you two been doing?!"

"Sir, it hasn't even been a week yet. You can't expect us to-"

Chief just shook his head, dark eyes angry. "Jace, you're the best we've got. You can finish cases quickly, and with this case- "

"It has been more difficult than usual, Chief, but I promise that I'm trying to close the case as quickly as possible."

Chief stood up then and straightened his suit. "As long as that's the case. Have you been receiving any calls from news reporters?"

"Luckily, no. I'm assuming most of them are calling you?"

"Yes." he groaned, running one hand through his white-blonde hair. "Too much politics involved with this one. Close it, or I'll get one of the veterans to finish it for you."

Jace slumped in his chair the moment the door closed behind Chief Morgenstern and Jonathan. He could not let that happen. Jace was tied into this case; he had to see it through or else ti would drive him insane.

He was definitely out of his game, and he wasn't completely sure why. The obvious choice for the arrest was Kaelie, but with the wine today…Sebastian was in the running now more than ever. Something about Sebastian and his ignorant, careless manner…The way he had treated Clarissa...

Jace hated Sebastian. The conclusion was obvious and inevitable to him. The way he flaunted himself to Kaelie and Clarissa and then with Aline was sickening. If there was one question Jace could've asked Clarissa, it was whether or not she'd marry Sebastian. It even surpassed the question of who'd murdered her. That was one that Jace could figure out on his own…But who Clarissa truly loved, was one he would never know.

Closing his eyes, Jace could imagine her portrait, hanging in the center of the room. The petite chin and cheekbones, a softly rounded nose with those brilliant, green eyes smiling at him…All topped off with her startling, red hair. She was beautiful; Jace had decided this days ago. But now if he imagined her alive and walking, to hear her voice talking to him, telling him things he should've heard from her, and not her journal, or _Hodge_ of all people.

He imagined her voice. He imagined it to be smooth and light, only to lower when she was angry. And the strength of Clarissa's character would shine through. Clarissa hadn't been a weakling; she wouldn't let anyone push her around.

It was the only assurance that Jace had that Clarissa hadn't chosen Sebastian over. . .

Jace cut the thought off immediately. He wasn't thinking of himself, surely? Clarissa was dead.

_Dead._

Her face blown off and everything.

Jace shifted in his seat uncomfortably. His sense had flung out the window, it seemed.

**I had intended it go on longer, but I have an Algebra and Chemistry test tomorrow that I need to study for. Plus I didn't particularly like the ending of the chapter, but I know where I'll pick up with next chapter. Also, we'll have another Magnus appearance like I promised. I'm hoping that most of next chapter will be funny. **

**But hey, speaking of chapters, what did you think of this one? Do you think that Jace's feelings are mere infatuation, or actual true feelings. I honestly think it can go both ways.**

**(This goes in chronological order from who reviewed first)**

**Guest #1: I'm trying! For me, Clace always happens so slowly whenever I write them, and I think that there's something honestly wrong with me. I will grant your wish as soon as possible though, especially since you asked so sweetly!...Hmmm, I'm in the mood for some ice cream now...**

**Guest #2 Thank you! I'm sure that your wish is unanimously wished among all the readers. Heck, even _I_ want it. And I'm the flipping writer. I'm so ready for Clary to be in here again. :D**

**Liza: I hope the update was soon enough! And I hope that by the end, everything will fall into place smoothly. Hopefully. I haven't ever written a mystery before, so we'll see how it goes. :D**

**-Lau**


	14. The Situation of Magnus Bane

**Heya, guys! I finally finished this after about two weeks! I actually had to do some research on all the prices. Back in the forties, the inflation was so much lower, so 1 cent was actually 33 cents…so yeah, it's a major difference. So keep that in mind while reading. **

**-Lau**

"Do I hear 100? 90? 80?" the auctioneer sped off the numbers, pointing at the two men currently in a bidding war. The vase was obviously not worth that much, Jace observed, but at least all the money would be donated to some local charity.

Jace wasn't attention; the cost had been slowly rising from 5$ to 10$ to 50$ and now to 100$. The whole affair had grown dull the moment it started for Jace, so he had A Tale of Two Cities out.

"SOLD! To the lucky owner over there!" the Auctioneer shouted excitedly, closing the bidding war once it had gone stale.

Just moments before, the room had been filled with conversations barely above a whisper. Whether out of respect, or something else, it had seemed pointless to Jace. Just minutes later, the silence exploded into shouted numbers, anyways.

A few other items were sold without much commotion, all very high priced, Jace noted. It was sometimes ridiculous how high the buyers were willing to pay for just one item.

"We'll close the auction with the piece I know you have all been waiting for. Everyone here knows of the aspiring artist, Clarissa Fairchild. Just last week, she was shot, and now, one of the only pictures to depict her real beauty, is this beautiful portrait painted by Simon Lewis." The Auctioneer tugged on a red, velvet curtain that covered that woman in the painting. And it was like Jace had just woken up.

The room quieted down to utter silence, all staring at the beautiful and elegant woman, who gazed back at them. Clarissa's sparkling, green eyes smiled secretly at Jace specifically. She obviously knew something he didn't, and she was laughing at him about it!

The bidding started without Jace realizing it, and by then he didn't care. He was still staring at the painting.

_What the hell was he even doing there?_

Something had drawn him to the auction, yes he admitted it. But Jace had convinced himself when he walked out the door that it was for the investigation. Yes, the auction would somehow help him catch the killer in some way or another. But he had been lying to himself. Jace knew why he was there.

"40!" Jace raised his number then, holding it above his head.

"I've got a 40 here, do I have a 45, 50, 55?" the Auctioneer zipped the prices on, another man across the room raising the bid to 60."

"100!" Jace offered again.

The price rose higher and higher, but Jace didn't relent. He had to get the painting. He _needed_ it.

120

130

150

170

200

230

Jace watched as his component started to shake his head. Jace would win!

"Got here just in time, didn't I?" whispered a voice behind him. "I say 500$."

Jace jumped, swiveling around to face whoever had bid behind him. Startling yellow eyes blinked back at him and winked once. Magnus Bane.

Magnus waggled his fingers at him once more and smirked at Jace's shocked expression.

"I've got a 500 bid or are you out of this sir, I've got 500 going once, twice-"

"600!" Jace spouted the number. He heard several gasps fill the room. It had been the highest bid the whole day.

Raising an impressed eyebrow, Magnus brought up the price by another 10 dollars.

Jace couldn't help but send a death glare Magnus' direction. _I swear, if Magnus Bane gets in my way…_

Fuming, Jace raised it 10 dollars more, and in response Magnus took the bid to 620

"Nice to see you again, Jace." Alec Lightwood put a hand on his shoulder, grinning at him. "He likes the attention. And the reaction. I hope you realize you're just feeding the deep, never ending black hole of his ego."

And then Alec raised his bidding card "630!"

"I've got 630, are you going to pass it up or not sir raise it up another 10-" the auctioneer's face began to grow brighter red from talking so fast. The excitement looked almost too much for the little man, as if the auction would make him pass out right then.

"Sure." Jace grumbled and nodded.

Magnus spread out on the couch and lay there lazily, yawning loudly. The few people left stared at him shamelessly. "I'll go for 5."

Jace frowned. Perhaps Magnus was slowing down because he wasn't as interested.

"Will you take it up further sir or are you done-"the auctioneer then began zipping through words, Jace wasn't sure he was saying coherent sentences anymore. "Going once, going twice-"

"Wait, I'll go up twenty more!" Jace realized in just barely enough time. He wasn't even sure he had this much money on him. But all rational thought had left his mind – it was completely filled with Clarissa.

Magnus shook his head, smirking at Jace in whatever provocative pose he was in. "You win," he mouthed to Jace, beckoning to him with a curl of his finger. Alec, reappearing behind the couch, looked altogether embarrassed by his partner's behavior.

XXX.

The overall price ended up being approximately 665 dollars, which Jace reluctantly handed over to the auctioneer. At least all the money would be sent to an orphanage or homeless shelter or other. That was Clary's request to where the money would go after her possessions were sold.

Jace would have to just tighten his belt the next couple of months since most of his rainy day savings now had depleted to nothing.

But it was completely worth it. Jace felt no regrets.

"The painting will be delivered when the investigation is over." The auctioneer told him, shaking his hand.

Jace only smiled and nodded. Although he was impatient, he didn't show it.

_It's too long. _

But Jace would see the portrait whenever he came to Clarissa's apartment.

And if that's what it would take, then Jace would try to spend ever breathing moment in that room.

**Jace has finally admitted his feelings now! Everyone's GOT to be happy about that. Heck, I'm happy about it! So review, telling me how ecstatically happy you all are! **

**Guest: Clary will be coming sooner than you think ;D So keep your shirt on and enjoy the ride!**

**-Lau**


	15. The Situation of Jace Herondale

**Hey everyone, I'm being pushed for time, so here is the chapter! The last part isn't very edited, so I'm terribly sorry for any mistakes you might catch. Anyways, I think you will all like this chapter very much, since it involves A LOT of Jace and some Clace feels. So Read and enjoy, I LOVED writing this chapter. **

**Please review!**

**-Lau**

The forensic scientist pulled open one of the large, silver drawers, pulling out the rack upon which Clarissa lay on. For a moment, Jace had to look away to keep his stomach down. Her whole face was destroyed; dark, dried blood plastered the gaping hole that had once been irresistible beauty. The crime of the investigation at first to Jace was the destruction of Clarissa's radiant face. He'd come to realize that her physical looks was what had drawn him in, what made him interested. But now, Jace wasn't so sure that it was just her physique anymore.

Jace had never seen her body before, just in the crime scene photos. And tonight seemed as good as any other to investigate why the tests hadn't come back yet.

And here she was.

There, with things Jace had only imagined. Like the smoothness of her pale, soft hands, and the delicate, perfect fingers. And how long her legs were, and how odd her toes looked sticking out from the curtain.

And then Jace was staring blankly at the blue sheet draped loosely over Clarissa's body. He had seen girls naked before, much more when he was a hormonal teenager, but Jace, in fact, couldn't remember a time _ever_, when it had really mattered to him. And now, as he inched his hand toward the sheet, which really was more like a thin, stretchy plastic, he pulled it back almost immediately.

"Is there a problem, Detective?" the woman was staring at him oddly.

"Ugh, it's nothing." Actually, inside, Jace felt near the midst of a current melt down. How could he feel pleasure when staring at a dead body? How could he violate Clarissa when she couldn't do anything about it? But at the same time, how could he not? A peek wouldn't hurt anyone, especially_ not him_, and Clarissa was already dead – would she really worry about some measly fellow enjoying her rotting anatomy for a second or so?

And then Jace shuddered. If he put it that way, then most definitely, it was wrong.

"You know, if you stare any longer at her chest, you may just as well burn a hole through the sheet."

"I . . . sorry, it's just –" Jace bit his tongue to stopping himself from sounding like an idiot. Jace Herondale never stumbled over anything.

"What, have you never seen a dead body before?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ugh," _Sure, let's go with that, _"Yeah, it's my first time on a case with a dead body."

"What did you do before, then?"

"I, ugh . . . " Jace desperately needed to work on his smoothness. He couldn't remember the last time he'd acted like this. "worked robberies and stuff."

She didn't look impressed. "There are some dead bodies involved with that, too."

"Well, I guess I've only helped out with the small home break-in cases."

"Can you show me your badge again?" the woman frowned, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Yeah, sure. No problem." Jace clumsily handed the woman his badge.

"Senior Detective, eh?"

"Yep," he answered more assuredly, tugging his suspenders.

"Must have been a major promotion. What happened to the rest of the guys? They all die or something?" she joked.

Teeth grinding together, Jace ignored her comment. He'd actually been working up the divisions quickly because he was an excellent cop, and he deserved it. Maybe three years ago, he'd never seen a dead body, but now, Jace couldn't count how many he'd seen.

"Yes, well, it's none of your business." Jace snapped. "Just give me the reports so I can go."

"Actually," now it was time for the woman to be uncomfortable. I don't have them completed."

"_You don't have it completed?_"

"No." She answered slowly.

"What have you been doing the entire week?!" Jace exploded, slamming Clarissa's file on the steel bar. "I need this done _NOW_!"

"I'm sorry." she stuttered, "It's just conflicting results with Miss Fairchild's former file."

"Like what?" Jace had never, _ever_ burst out in anger during the job. He wasn't thinking straight, obviously. _And he knew the reason for it too._

"Her height is different, for one thing." she stammered.

"Is that all? You've been taking all this time because of her _height?_" Jace could feel his temper rising again.

"No, no there are other things, too. It's just taking longer than usual for the DNA tests to come back."

"How long does that usually take?" Jace rubbed his eye and sighed, wishing more than anything to finish the case and get it over with; the long, piercing headaches, lack of sleep, very _weird_ feelings . . .

"About three days, but if they messed it up, it might take another three or four."

"So it can't be that long, now."

She nodded, "Probably within the next twenty four hours. I'll call the department the moment I get the report back."

"Fantastic." The more evidence on this case, the better. He could feel himself grasping at straws, and it seemed as though they slowly were disappearing. The wine wasn't enough to arrest Sebastian; Chief would believe him to be crazy. And without the forensic evidence, there would be nothing to grasp at, and Jace would officially fail for the first time in his life. Fail the law, fail Chief, fail Clarissa, and fail himself.

"I'll give you what I know, though, for certain." The scientist started uncomfortably. "The body is 5'2, which is about, give or take, two inches differing from Clarissa's previous appointment in a year ago."

"She could have just had a delayed growth spurt?" Jace frowned and folded his arms.

"It's odd, but I guess it's the most likely," she shrugged. The more she began to talk about her work, the more at ease she seemed to feel. "She was wearing this –"

She walked over to the opposite side and opened a closet, pulling out a fancy dress covered in clear, plastic covering. "I've tried to keep it in the exact condition when we got the body."

Jace unwrapped it, inspecting the fabric. It was silky, blue, and slightly wrinkled. Down the front and back dripped a long, dark bloodstain. "Was it in this condition when you received it?"

"If not, more wrinkled. She must've been rolling down a hill or something."

Jace bit his lip. Hodge hadn't told him much about the state of Clarissa's clothing the night she died. Maybe she had a nap before she was ruthlessly murdered. That was more than Jace could say about himself. He needed a nap.

"And, I am absolutely sure that she was sexually active while she lived." The woman informed him.

"How are you so sure –" Jace's voice choked off when she pulled back the blue, plastic sheet completely, Clarissa's bare chest and waist in total view. He winced and looked away, urging himself to calm down, that Clarissa was a _dead_ _girl_.

"You're a virgin, too, take it?" she smirked and covered the body once again, much to Jace's relief. For a moment, Jace swore he about had a heart ache. "Sorry, I just assumed . . ."

"It's fine." Let's just have her think that's his problem. If he tried to explain his _situation_ . . . She'd probably send him to an insane asylum.

* * *

It was raining when Jace left the police department. The droplets fell thickly off the brim of his hat and wet his nose. In response to the weathering wind, Jace tugged the flaps of his trench coat up. The hotel, luckily, wasn't too far away from the Station. It was odd to think that for more than two years, Clarissa was just three blocks from him. And now, as his black shoes splashed across the thick, dirty puddles, Jace couldn't stop himself from continuing onward.

Jace passed the bellboy and the desk manager, both recognizing him because of how many times Jace had been there. He was almost a permanent resident.

_A permanent resident._

For some reason, Jace liked the sound of that. An official place to stay and call home, maybe a wife, a kid or two . . .

To have someone waiting for him at home when he returned, someone to kiss his cheek and tell about her day to distract from whatever horrors Jace encountered with his job, or someone beside him every night when he slept. It sounded peaceful to Jace. Perfect. Like a little part of heaven.

As Jace climbed the stairs, is feet no longer dragged like they had when coming here. He felt spritely, full of energy. Something was definitely different - Jace felt a different kind of anticipation in seeing Clarissa's apartment. He wanted _see_ her, wanted to know her in way no one else could. _He wanted her to be alive._

Jace opened the door and stepped inside with reverence. It took him a only a moment to feel Clarissa's character, studying the entire room. Jace followed the flow from the door to the desk just left of the door. He plopped down tiredly and emptied out the drawers.

The contents mostly were letters from Hodge. There were at least a hundred, if not more, all bundled together by a tight ribbon. In the other drawer, Jace had put back her small, journal. Both so personal, but Jace couldn't help but pull it out to read his favorite parts. Those were usually near the beginning, before she'd met Hodge, or Sebastian. Perhaps he was just jealous; anything was possible now that Jace had discovered it. Discovered that he was in love with Clarissa.

_"I'm a little worried that I won't be able to find a job here. I'm staying with Kaelie until I actually get an income. She's being very kind about it and I'm so glad that I have a faithful ally with me in this new and strange place. She even helped me job hunting earlier today. I think it's because she's been trying to get her mind off of a guy that keeps popping up._

_Apparently he's 'extremely handsome' according to Kaelie, and she can't pay attention to anything since before I showed up. . ."_

Jace abruptly slammed the journal shut and pushed the chair back, the legs squealing in protest. reading her journal almost made her seem alive. To read her thoughts . . . _Clarissa was alive._

Even nearer to the door was the great large clock that Jace always forgot was there. It sparked a memory in him. Another one that looked so similar. Underneath the great, golden, pendulum was a beautiful stained glass compartment. Along the edges, Jace could feel the fine, polished wood, smooth underneath his fingers. And then he remembered, when he'd seen a clock just like this one.

_His fingers brushed over fine, china plates, golden trinkets, and the wood of a large, Grandfather clock._

_"Don't touch that!" Hodge cried. "There are only two of them left!"_

_He held up his hands. "Sorry, sir."_

Had Hodge given her the other clock? Of course, if Hodge loved her, then it only made sense.

And then he moved to the middle of the room, staring. Above the fireplace, the painting had returned to its former glory. Clarissa once sat there, mysterious and beautiful, and once lay on the stool, a sultry idol. But now, she was smirking at him. She was there, so close, but so unreachable. Someone that he wanted in a way that he never had before. But once the investigation closed, she'd be nothing but ash.

Jace was terrified.

He had to close the case - he couldn't have someone else finish what he failed to do. But if he did officially end it, then there was really noting left - physically - of Clarissa. Unless you counted the permanent bloodstain on the rug. It wasn't like one could hold a rug, or touch a rug, or . . .

Of course, one couldn't - _shouldn't_ \- touch a dead body.

He was messed up. Maybe a trip to the doctor's office . . .

Jace felt his feet move him toward her bedroom.

It was sill untouched and spotless. The springs bounced when Jace sat down on her bed. He bit his lip when he could see Clarissa, lying and sleeping peacefully. What he would give to have the figment be real, _touchable_.

Her closet door opened easily when he turned the knob. Hanging in front, like a tempter's snare, was her clothes. Jace took one down from the rack and stroked the fabric, loving the feel of its smoothness and texture. He could only imagine her in it, dancing with a rich stranger, at one of her many social functions.

The hanger returned to the rack, Jace looked on for another one. Something black caught his eye, and when he moved the rest of the clothes to the side, he felt his stomach drop. It was a see-through lacy, robe that must have been knee length on Clarissa.

It was as if he'd been electrified by just touching the sleeve. He could see her in it, on the bed just behind him, beckoning to him, the same smirk as in the painting. Jace shoved the clothes over the robe so he wouldn't have to see it. The rapid beat of his heart, and the odd dizziness in his head wasn't helping him to stand.

But then he found _it_. The door slammed shut. He slid down to sit, leaning heavily against the closet door. Jace couldn't handle this.

Jace had seen _the_ dress. The one she wore in the portrait. And for one moment, it was _so_ _real_. For a moment, Jace thought he didn't need to imagine her. Clarissa was alive and real, easily touchable. But she wasn't. Clarissa was _dead_.

Jace waited for his knees to stop trembling to stand up, when the door bell rang. He frowned, and struggled to his feet. _Who would be here?_

And when Jace opened the door, it seemed obvious.

"How has your evening been, Detective?" Hodge brushed past him and stopped in the center of the room.

"Why did you come here, Mr. Starkweather?" Jace asked coldly, closing the door.

"I saw a police car in the front and I thought it best to talk to you now."

Jace frowned, "Anyone from the station could've been up here; how did you know I was going to be up here?"

"Well, it's easy to see." Hodge chuckled.

"See what?" Jace took a few steps toward him and narrowed his eyes.

"You've been acting very strangely." Hodge said meticulously, turning to face him. His eyes were dark and angry.

Did he suspect? "What?"

"It's obvious and understandable." Hodge grinned. It was obvious he was enjoying this. "I could see it start when I told you our story." The word 'our' was spoken reverently and delicately.

Hodge sat down on the cushion of the chair and beckoned Jace to sit down as well. "But what are you doing _here_?"

Jace felt the back of his throat dry. "Investigation." he mumbled.

"Sorry?" Hodge tapped his ear. "I've been having a hard time at hearing lately."

"It's for the investigation. I'm not allowed to tell suspects anything." Jace cleared his throat.

"Keep telling yourself, that." Hodge snorted. "We both know why you're here. Use whatever logic or reasoning, but it won't work."

Jace just glared him. As if he hadn't realized this already.

Hodge stood up, and walked to the desk, fingering the letter package on top. "Do you have any sense in privacy, Jonathan?"

"Murder victims aren't entitled to privacy, Mr. Starkweather." Jace pulled out his book from his coat pocket and began to read, pretending to be bored.

"I assume that I am not entitled, either?"

"Are you offended that I read your letters to Clarissa?" Jace grinned, and kept his head down.

"Yes, actually."

"Yours are the best of the bunch, though."

"Thanks." Hodge replied, annoyed. "But I didn't write them to you."

"It's too bad then." Jace replied, "you can get them back once I've caught the killer."

"Fine. I'm here to request that I may take my possessions back. My letters, the clock, and the vase."

"I'm not allowed to do that." Jace looked up at Hodge, shaking his head.

"I understand that you were at the auction last night. Any purchases?"

Jace snapped his book shut and stood. "It's none of your business." he told Hodge sullenly.

"Careful, Herondale." Hodge glared, "Or they might send you to a psychiatric ward." Hodge swept past him. "I don't think they've ever heard of someone falling in love with a corpse."

And then Hodge was leaving, slamming the door behind him. Jace just breathed a sigh of relief and started to undo his trench coat, still very damp from the weather outside. His white dress shirt stuck to his chest uncomfortably and his tie felt like it was trying to choke him to death.

Jae loosened the tie and made his way to the wine cabinet. After pouring himself a glass, Jace took a grateful sip. After the forensics lab and the incident with Hodge just then, Jace needed a drink desperately.

He plopped down on the sofa and gazed at her painting. Clarissa now was smiling happily at him, It was comforting, soothing after the accusing conversation between him and Hodge. Jace closed his eyes for a second, sighing, when he found himself close to the edge of sleep. Jace blinked them open for barely a second, and saw the brilliant flash of green of Clarissa's eyes . . .

_And that's all he could see as Jace kissed her, holding her small body to his. She was saying his name over and over again, mumbling it against his neck as her hands fumbled with the buttons of his wet dress shirt. Jace couldn't move, his hands frozen on her waist. Was this real? She looked at him, her bright green eyes alight with passion and want and love for him. _

_"Jace." her lips formed his name perfectly, in the most wonderful way. "Is something wrong?" her voice was soft, but scratchy, like she hadn't been using it for a long time._

_Jace tried to say no, that he had never felt better in his entire life, but she was kissing him again, and he was kissing her back. Her hands finally undid that last button and she was spreading her hands across his chest, following the lines of his chest._

_Jace wanted pull her closer, to weave his hands into her thick red hair that he'd only dreamed of touching. But his hands stayed on her waist. Clarissa seemed to notice this problem as well, because she grasped his wrists, circling them in her small ones, and brought it up to her cheek. "I'm real, Jace." she whispered. "I'm here. Right here."_

_But he only frowned. She couldn't be there. She was dead. It was impossible for her to be touching him, kissing him,_ undressing _him_.

_"But you _can't_ be here." Jace murmured into the line of her perfect hair._

_"You're right." Clarissa slowly turned to look at him, but her beautiful face wasn't there anymore. It was the destroyed corpse that he'd seen before in the pictures and the forensic's lab.  
_

_Jace shouted in surprise, backing away from the body._

_"Help me, Jace!" she cried, lunging toward him. Even though most of her face was gone, Jace could see parts of the existing flesh trying to move and form words, but it came out gurgled.  
_

_Jace avoided the body limping toward him in a zombie-like manner before it collapsed finally on the floor, grabbing at his ankle and tugging on it sharply. Jace fell and scrambled away from it, but he could feel the hot breath of the corpse on his legs, cold blood dripping onto his chest. Clarissa's corpse tugged him from on his stomach to his back. Jace could make out the corner or the mouth; it was upturned, almost like she was trying to smile. "Give me a kiss." the thing gargled and laughed, which was more like a hack._

Jace's last image was of the bloody, mangled head, inches from his face, close to his, when something cold against his temple brought him out of the terrible nightmare. Jace blinked wearily and could finally make out the end of a gun barrel, touching his forehead.

Jace scrambled up on the heels of his hands, his heart beating rapidly.

"Don't move," a hard, female voice commanded him, "unless you want a bullet in your brain."

Jace obeyed the woman, looking past the gun. A pair of intense, cold, brilliantly green eyes stared at him. "What the hell are you doing in my apartment?"

Jace couldn't recall ever hearing the voice, but he recognized the eyes, and the flaming, red hair. "_Clarissa?_"

**Guest #1**

**I believe this chapter fulfilled your wants and your questions. I agree, it has been dragged out to this perfect moment.**

**TMI lover**

**Does this chapter answer your question? I believe it does. Clarissa is ALIVE!**

**Guest #2**

**I think there was a lot of Clace before this chapter, more of a build up to the actual, real life thing. So I now it will be more of Jace hiding his intense feelings for a girl who has no idea who he is, but he knows everything about her. The next few chapters are going to be fun. :D**

**Again, everyone, pease review! Tell me how excited you are, how relieved you are, how disturbed you are by jace's dream, what you think it means, etc. Anything really. I'd love to hear it!  
**

**-Lau**


	16. The Situation of Clarissa Fairchild

**You are all flippin awesome, I hope you know that. **_**30 REVIEWS?**_** I've never had so many reviews for just a chapter! Thank you so much, and because of all that fantastic motivation, I was able to write this chapter yesterday in ONE sitting. This is to all you lovely people, so I hope you enjoy Clace's first conversation!**

**Guest responses at end . . . and if you could, if you are a guest, put a name, or something so I can identify you, and so you can identify yourself as well in my responses.**

**Oh, And Happy Belated Birthday to RebeccaChase11. Thank this girl everyone, because she's the reason why I updated so quickly!**

**-Lau**

Clary draped her damp coat across the white sofa, sighing and wringing out her frizzy hair. In all honesty, Clary wasn't at all relieved to return home. In fact, several times, she'd been tempted to run away like Sebastian had, and forget about this life. It wasn't much to leave behind. _Something cold burned in her heart, and it was directed to everyone._

Clary switched on the lamp, the yellow light casting an eerie glow across the room. The room was so familiar, but with everything that had happened, nothing seemed to feel She sat down, dragging her hands down her face and froze, an image flickering behind her fingers. She stood up cautiously and moved around the coffee table, avoiding some of the mail and sketches. Yes, she hadn't been dreaming.

It was a man . . . sleeping on her couch.

Clary glanced down at her keys in hand, and hugged herself, cold and fear raising goose bumps up and down her forearm. She tiptoed toward her suitcase, and winced when the zipper seemed to echo louder than ever. After a moment of silence, except for the heavy breathing of the man fast asleep on her sofa, she pulled the gun out meticulously, swallowing as she loaded the bullets into the barrel, clicking off the safety.

Inhaling deeply, Clary rose to her feet, holding the gun out in front of her as she began the agonizing walk back over to the living area. And froze.

The man had turned over, his back no longer facing her. The gun lowered, and Clary stepped carefully toward him where he lay. His chest rose quickly, and eyes screwed shut. he was perhaps the most gorgeous man she'd ever laid eyes on. Either from the rain, or just good genetics, his hair curled around his temples in an angelic halo. And with his straight nose, full lips, and the added scruff shadowing a strong jaw, he just topped off the look of one of Clary's romantic images of a handsome prince.

As she watched, his eyelids started to flutter, the whites of his eyes flashing every so often. Clary frowned as she raised the gun, and pressed it against the stranger's forehead. He flinched awake and Clary had barely any time to brace herself when he opened his eyes, wide and dilated. He scrambled up on his hands, his chest seeming to strain against his button down dress shirt.

"Don't move, unless you want a bullet in your brain." Clary glared at him.

Several scenario's passed through her mind, none of them good; a robber stealing everything, and, assuming Clary would stay for another night at the country house, fell asleep, or perhaps a homeless person, sleeping for the night in an empty hotel room . . .

But neither situations made sense; nothing had been taken, so the robber suspicion was out the window, and the desk manager wouldn't let just_ anyone_ into her room without permission, plus, he was too finely dressed to be homeless . . .

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment?"

The man just stared at her, his mouth gaping so wide, Clary bet she could fit her whole fist in there, no problem. And then he said something, and it was her turn to be surprised.

"_Clarissa?_"

He spoke her name as if he knew it well, was used to saying it over and over. But never before had Clary ever spoken, or seen, this man - she would have remembered that face. "How do you know me?"

It then occurred to her that perhaps he was a stalker; Clary glanced around the room - on her desk, her journal and letters were out. He'd been looking at them! He was most _definitely_ a stalker. "You . . . I'm . . . I mean," the man blubbered, blinking rapidly, looking her up and down, as if he couldn't get the fact that she was standing right in front of him. "How are you even here?" He began to shake his head rapidly, rubbing his eyes and running his hands through his damp hair in an anxious manner.

"What do you mean, this is _my_ apartment?" Clary ground her teeth, folding her arms. Of all nights for this to happen, this was perhaps _the_ worst. She still had so many things to think about, and Sebastian to call . . .

"I know, but . . ." the stranger breathed, running his hands one last time through his hair, making it look like he'd just rolled out of bed - which he'd actually had, Clary realized stupidly - and raked his eyes up and down her body, as if he was making sure all her limbs were intact. Clary only gripped the gun harder in her hands, firming up her stance. His eyes were huge and fearful, finally resting on her face, searching it, practically drinking it in, before whispering, his mouth hardly forming the words: "You're dead."

Clary closed her eyes, letting a short, strangled laugh break through. "Sorry? _What?_"

He shook his head, the curled hairs bouncing and sticking to his temples. 'I'm sorry. That wasn't the best way to put it."

"Wait . . . what do you mean? You mean I was dead, or that I am going to be dead . . ."

The words were lost somewhere along the way. Maybe she was right; this man had been sent to kill her, right when she was ready to fix everything . She would never get the chance to -

"No no no no no," he laughed shakily, starting to stand up, when Clary took a step forward, pressing the gun against the chest and used it to shove him back in her chair. She leaned down, closer to him, and touched the barrel lightly against his temple.

"Don't get back up." she whispered, raising her eyebrows at him, "or you can say good bye to that pretty little face of yours."

Instead of nodding vigorously like Clary'd expected him to do, he chuckled, resting his head against the back of the cushion in an exhausted kind of way.

"I'm not here to kill you, Clarissa." He confirmed, closing his eyes.

"Then what do you mean that I'm 'dead?' And what are you doing in my apartment?!" Clary exploded, digging the end of the gun harder into his chest.

He only squirmed a little from discomfort, which Clary wasn't at all surprised at; she could tell that through that tight, white shirt, he was muscular - a rippling chest and strong arms. Nothing Clary, pathetic, little Clary, could do would affect him physically like he could to her.

"I only mean," he explained, his eyes still clenched shut, "is that everyone thinks you're dead."

Clary couldn't stop the small gasp, and clamped her mouth shut with her empty palm. "_No_ . . . that doesn't make sense. What are you talking about!?"

Clary's one hand shook as she threatened the stranger again with the pistol. "Explain. _Now_." Clary could hardly keep her voice from shaking as he opened his eyes, and swallowed hard.

"You were murdered a week ago, shotgun to the face. When you opened the door, the killer was there and . . . well, that's what we presumed, at least, given the bloodstains and the - "

"_We_? Who is we?"

"Us . . . the police." he answered.

"Oh . . . so you're not a stalker." Clary chewed on her tongue as she studied him. It made sense; the toned body, access to her room, the trench coat and fedora hat number . . .

He laughed then, and rubbed his forehead. " No I _am not_, so if you could please - "

He gestured to the gun and smiled at her. Begrudgingly, Clary lowered it down slowly, clenching her jaw, and eyeing any quick movements that the "police man" might make.

"Thank you." he sighed and relaxed.

"And _who_ are _you_, since you already know me?" she folded her arms and scowled at him.

"Detective Jonathan Herondale, at your service." he stood up and performed a flourishing bow.

Clary humphed. "Well, _Jonathan_, I am obviously not dead, so who was the _actual_ victim?"

"And you've finally reached to the point of my thought process." Jonathan laughed, "I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine. Do you know of anyone who has access to your room, is about your height, was there the night you left . . ."

"That's a lot of criteria." Clary began to pace, holding her temples, and shook her head at the approaching man. "I have no idea."

Jonathan took a few more steps toward her, frowning, creases in his forehead forming. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sorry." Clary sighed, "Anyone with legal access to this room can bring whoever they want up here. So that broadens the field a bit, even to some strangers."

"Do you have a list of those people?" Jonathan asked, his eyes lit with excitement.

"No," Clary said, and made her way to the phone, "But I can get it for - "

Jonathan was there beside her suddenly and slammed the phone down, shaking his head. "Don't."

Shaking his hand off her, she glared angrily at him. "Why not? You can't tell me what to do!"

Jonathan visibly bit his tongue. "Yes, you do have the free will to do however you please, but I'm asking," He paused, ensnaring her gaze with his. They were a dark, burnished gold color, just like the shade of his hair. She found herself catching her breath, but not sure of the cause. Jonathan licked his lips and leaned down closer to her.

"I need you," he said, in a hushed, intense voice, "to not call anyone. Don't make any kind of contact . . . with anyone." he repeated, emphasizing his point.

Clary shook her head, and took a step back. "Why?"

"I . . . I need to be there. "

"What for?" Clary's eyebrows creased.

"Well . . . several of your . . . _friends_ . . . are suspects."

Clary almost choked. "They're _what?_"

"I'm almost sure it's one of them."

"But . . ." Clary swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, "they wouldn't try to kill me. They _wouldn't_, I know it . . .would they?" Clary sat down shakily, suddenly out of air. She tried to imagine Kaelie, or Hodge holding the shotgun that was meant to kill her.

The detective opened his mouth, and then quickly closed it. "I honestly don't know. I'm sorry."

"I just . . .I can't believe something like this could _ever_ happen!" she exclaimed exasperatedly. "Why? Why me? Couldn't this have happened to someone different?" It was wishful, and actually, Clary rebuked, selfish thinking. She couldn't wish this situation upon someone else. Clary knew she could handle it. She just wanted to express the bottled up emotions of the past week, the past ten minutes of confusion, the anger towards everyone that she knew . . .

Jonathan snorted, and muttered under his breath, "you're telling me" before resting a large hand on her small shoulder. Clary jumped, turning her head to look at him. She had almost forgotten he had been there.

"I need you to promise me to not contact anyone tonight."

"Just tonight?" Clary bit her lip, looking out the window.

He nodded. "Just for tonight. I'll be back again in the morning to see you."

"Er . . .fine. I promise."

Jonathan smiled, and began quickly gathering all his draped clothing. "Thank you. This is important. I promise _you_ . . .it is." After thrusting his arms back into his trench coat, and placing his fedora hat back on his head, he was already at the door, turning the knob, when he stopped, and turned around. "I have just one question for you, until morning, that is." he said sincerely.

"Ask away." Clary told him nervously, clasping her hands in her lap.

Jonathan only stared at her, eyes shadowed by his hat. Clary's skin prickled from goose bumps, though Clary didn't think it was from the cold or fear.

"When you left, I know for what reason. You left with a question, and would only come back with the answer . . .Do have it?"

Clary closed her eyes. This question had inhabited her mind the entire week. There was nothing else that she could think of, throughout her long walks, endless wanderings around the house, sleepless nights . . . but she still had never said it out loud. Biting her lip, Clary gazed at the man in her doorway. If she said it, really did say it, then it would have to be true, and everything would end. And frankly, she wasn't sure if she wanted it to. Clary could live in an naive dream, ignore things, turn a blind eye . . .

But no one deserved that kind of life, especially her. "Yes, I have my answer."

Jonathan looked at her expectantly, wringing his hands. "And it is?"

"No. I won't."

The detective broke a large, boyish grin, and, in a flash, was out the door and out of sight.

Clary found herself blinking in shock and staring at the black, blocky phone hanging on the wall. Just one night . . .

XXX

Jace had his ear pressed against the director's line, listening intently to the conversation he was hearing. The desk manager had let him man it when Clarissa had asked for a line between the one and only, Sebastian Verlac.

"I need to talk." Clarissa was saying, her voice urgent.

"I know. Me too. Meet me outside in ten minutes. Make sure you're not followed." Sebastian responded back.

"Alright. I will. I got rid of the detective. He doesn't want me to talk to anyone, so we have to be careful."

"Of course." Sebastian agreed. "I'll see in ten minutes. Love you?"

The line on Clarissa's end was cut and Jace heard Sebastian sigh, and hang up.

Jace immediately called up the police station, speaking quickly to Jonathan when he picked up. "Jon, I need you to get a car over here . . . right _now_."

**Ah, and so it ends! Please, everyone, review! I absolutely love and feed off of your guys' reviews; they press me to write more. How are your feelings on this chapter? What do you think Jace was feeling , what Clary is talking about with Sebastian, what Jace and Clary were talking about at the end . . .and so on. Just please don't forget about that box down there below my writing. :D**

**Guest #1**

**I know! The excitement was probably killing you all . . .**

**Guest #2**

**I'm happy too, it's about time Clary starts to warp things around. Perfect timing too, right when Jace has barely any evidence left to go off of for the investigation.**

**Guest #3**

**I agree whole heartedly, but let's keep this language down at a PG rating. ;D**

**Juliana**

**I hope this update was fast enough! And thank you, I think writing this is bringing me more pleasure than reading it off from someone else's stories. **

**Guest #4**

**This scene was quite daunting for me actually. I wasn't sure what POV I wanted in, because Jace knows too much, and feels so much, and is experiencing so much at that point in time, and it's so hard to describe all of that in a time crunch. So I leaned more to Clary's POV, because while she DOES know some things that Jace doesn't, I can keep some of those things hidden since we're not used to her POV . . . Wow, that was long, and I'm sure you don't care much about my internal thinking and debates, but yeah, you get it anyways :D**

**Mundane200011**

**Yeah, I did hint at it in the summary . . .well, more like state it . . .And thank you for your excitement, you made me excited as well! **

**Random FanGirl**

**Haha! That would be a cruel trick. Luckily, no, I'm not an evil person and made it Jocelyn. Who wants to see Jocelyn, when it could've been Clary? Not me, for one.**

**Wowzer, that was a lot, so special thanks to all my lovely guest reviewers!**

**-Lau **


	17. The Situation of Jonathan Morgenstern

**it's been a month. And yes, I think I told a few that I was working on a XMAS One shot, but because I didn't finish it in time, I'll just post it next year. No biggie! But yeah, now that that distraction has disappeared, I believe I can update sooner, **_**hopefully**_**. Especially since I'm off break for another week.**

**Guest responses at the end, as usual**

**-Lau**

"A woman came in the station asking for you." Jonathan informed Jace, moving a manila file off of the shotgun seat.

"Oh?" Jace's mind was still spinning rapidly. It was like he was lost at sea in the middle of a storm, wave after wave pounding mercilessly into him, driving him in different directions all at once until it finally pulled him under. And Jace wasn't sure if he was drowning yet.

"Yeah, she dropped off a file – it's apparently urgent she said." Jonathan handed him the file.

"This must be the DNA results from the forensics lab." Jace opened them eagerly and glanced up as a figure – Clarissa – walked out of the hotel, and told Jonathan, "Drive a little further down the road; I don't want to be too close to be suspicious."

Jonathan followed his orders, glancing at him every so often as Jace studied the file. He skimmed over the parts with the complicated science terms and turned the page. Jace stared at the large, bold letters over a picture of the corpse in less shock than he would have before. It made sense, after all.

**NO MATCH**

The obvious reason for this was that the body was, of course, not Clarissa's. And whoever murdered the victim perhaps had no knowledge of the fact that it hadn't been Clarissa. It was something, at least, that Jace could use to his advantage. Unless, _of course_, that the murderer really did know. And planned to finish her off once she got in town . . .

"Who exactly are we following?" Jonathan asked, staring at Jace oddly when he turned 180 in his chair to peer out the rear window.

"Clarissa Fairchild." Jace whispered, his voice strained from either the intense pressure on his abdomen from the chair he was leaning dangerously on, or still the initial shock that _she_ was alive and breathing.

"WHAT?!" Jonathan grabbed his arm, pulling Jace back into his seat. "What do you mean we're following her?"

Jace tore his eyes from the small figure waiting outside to glance at his partner. "She's not really dead."

Jonathan's eyes bugged out, his mouth dropping. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Just let me explain!" Jace grabbed the man's forearm, "Clarissa was never the one who was killed. She isn't the murder victim."

"But how-"

"She told me she stayed at the country house the entire time." Jace explained calmly and slowly. The more he explained the situation to Jonathan, the more it became even more real. When he was talking to Clarissa, it felt like a dream, much better than the nightmarish corpse bride, but a figment nevertheless. And there she stood, just off the curb, climbing deliberately into a black car-

"Sebastian's here! Shut up!" Jace leaped into the backseat, trying to peer through the bug smeared rear window.

"They can't even hear us . . . Jace your acting like a child; get over here so we can talk about this."

Jace reluctantly sat back down in his seat, still glancing at the side view mirrors every once in a while to watch Clarissa and Sebastian talk earnestly. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well," Jonathan blew a strand of hair out of his face in a tired puff. "I don't know, maybe the fact that I, personally, inspected the country house and saw no trace of her."

"You don't think I've already realized this?" Jace glared at his partner.

"Well, I'm just reminding that you don't know her at all. You know the other suspects, but this girl might take some time for you to understand."

Jace frowned; _he_ was the one who understood her most. Clarissa was the only one that made sense. "What are you trying to say?"

"Look, all I'm trying to get across to you is that the girl already lied to you about not seeing anyone tonight, and now it looks like she wasn't at the Country house the entire time . . ."

"Are you – "

"And it makes sense why the investigation's been taking so long; the real suspect wasn't here, and that's why we've had small headway in the case – "

"Clarissa is not a suspect!" Jace snapped, scowling at Jonathan.

Jonathan's eyes were wide with shock, but Jace didn't care. Jonathan was just suspecting _Clarissa_ of the murder. "Alright." he muttered, "Sorry. . . But I am your partner, and I'm supposed to be making the calls with you. We're a team."

Jace closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. Jon was right. They were equal partners, and Jace had been acting irrationally. They were best friends, after all. And Jon was only thinking what was best for the investigation. "No, you're right. I'm overreacting. It's just . . ." Jace chuckled darkly. "It's been a very_ odd_ day."

* * *

The silence in the car ended abruptly when Jonathan flinched in his seat, nearly shouting, "Clarissa's leaving. Sebastian's pulling out."

Jon looked to him for further instruction. "Tail him. I want to know where he's going."

Jonathan pulled away from the curb once Sebastian's car had whizzed past the,.

"It looks like he isn't going back to his place." Jonathan noted offhandedly, peering through the blurring windshield, the wipers not working fast enough. The rain was barely dripping an hour before, but now was coming down in buckets.

The rest of the drive was nearly an hour in length, and down a dark, gravel path. Jace's entire window was splattered with mud from endless pools of water beside the road. Jonathan kept the headlights off, as they entered a forest, the gravel disappearing and turning to a bumpy, dirt path. "I think I know where he's going!" Jonathan looked excitedly over at Jace. "Clarissa's Country house! While they were talking, she must've told him to get something. I recognize this as the back road."

"Or hide something." Jace added darkly. He'd been brooding silently the entire drive. He'd come to the conclusion of the location a while ago; it was the only place that Jace could think was connected to both Clarissa and Sebastian. So many thoughts, ideas - confirmations - had flooded his mind, filling him with anger, anxiety, and confusion. The entire time Jace believed that Kaelie and Sebastian were in it together, but it really had been Clarissa the whole time.

On the brink of betrayal from a woman he had just hardly met, Jace nearly jumped out of the car once it had stopped in front of the large, white manor. "Do you want some back up?" Jonathan squinted at him through the gray rainfall.

Jace shook his head, drops flying off of his hat like a sprinkler propeller. "No. I want you out here in case he tries to run out the back while I'm in there."

"Sounds good to me." Jon nodded, grimacing at the large white manor with distaste. "The place looks creepy at night."

Jace snorted and began his walk up the muddy hill to the dark house. The country house was probably once a beautiful house at the beginning of the century; white paint over oak panels, black shingles, and four grand, pillars adorning the wraparound porch. But now, the paint was peeling in places, some shingles were cracked, or had fallen onto the ground, with nails and gravel pieces littering the lawn. When Jace picked his way up the wooden stairs carefully, the boards creaked up a storm.

The door was halfway open, so he pushed it aside, his right hand drifting to his right hip, where his gun rested in his holster. The storm outside sounded muted from inside the musty house.

Jace passed into the first room, only flinching when a loud crack of thunder rolled in from a mile away. The room lit up for a moment, and Jace swore, in the shadows, he saw Clarissa Corpse, the one from his nightmare, huddled in the corner.

He scrambled backwards , running into a large grand piano, the yellow keys hitting high, sharp notes. Then the flash was gone, the room returning to its original dark state.

His heart was hammering wildly against his chest, like it was trying to jump out of his body. The image was engraved into his memory now; the bloody, empty sockets, the loose, snapping jaw, along with the pale, yellow, stinking body.

Jace shivered; the fear and the cold rain was like prickling ice against his chest. Cold sweat rolled down his back, and after another pulse of light, and a thunderous boom, Jace dared himself to peer again into that dark corner. Only this time, he saw a bent lamp.

He realized then that his gun was out, pointing directly at the shade. Once his chest had topped moving so quickly, and his hand stopped shaking, Jace lowered the gun, wiping the sweat off his brow.

The upstairs rooms were no better. Everything was old, and creaky, and ghost like. Jace remembered stories his grandmother would tell him when he was younger. Stories of young girls, and angry spirits, and of death. He had disliked those stories, and curled into his frail Grandmother's side, always certain that an old, helpless woman could protect him. And she would, telling him stories of Young Knights and Princes, dragons, swordfights, a bloodthirsty demon hell bent on revenge . . .

And as Jace circled up the iron spiral staircase, he wished more than anything that his Grandmother was there with him. But Jace breathed deeply, pointing the gun to the floor and quickened his pace; no one could help him now but himself. He was the hero, and would save whatever damsel that was distressed.

Because that's who he was.

And so when Jace kicked open the bedroom door, there wasn't an ounce of fear in his whole body. Only adrenaline and excitement pulsing through him.

And that's when Jace saw him. Saw Sebastian raise the shot gun.

**I wanted this chapter to have more, but it seems like I ended up freaking out Jace and have him bring up some cute memories of him and Imogen. If only their relationship had been better in the books. I think it could've been if she hadn't died. . . **

**Anyways, what did you think? Answers to question didn't fit in this chapter, but I KNOW that next chapter will be a couple reveals. **

**Oh! And how has everyone's holidays' been? Mine has been great; my dad got my sisters and I a PS4, and I'm sure that's great, but I haven't done much with video games past a Wii . . .So yeah. Tell me one gift, or something that happened. I'd love to hear.  
**

**Guest responses:**

**TMI lover**

**Thank you!**

**Guest #1**

**Of course this a Clace story! Endgame is Clace, guys.**

**Frazil-Silver**

**There was even more suspense in this chapter, gosh. I didn't even know where I was taking the whole "walk through an old country house" kinda thing. But my fingers led me to this, so hopefully you enjoyed it. Your question on whether or not Sebastian and Clary have been contacting one another will be answered next chapter! Until then!**

**Mundane200011**

**Haha, thanks! I think by next chapter, you can add another suspect to your list, and then take one off. Anyways, I did hint toward it in this chapter; don't know if anyone actually considered it as a valid theory. Once the victim is realized, hopefully things will make more sense**

**Guest #2**

**Thank you! I hope this update was to your standards of goodness.**

**Random Fangirl**

**You are quite lucky to not wait for my long updates if you read it recently. And you were asking about Clary and Sebastian, so I'll tell you that next chapter, we'll go over what they were talking about. Also, yeah, I just started guest responses a couple chapters ago. I think 12 or 13. I'm not sure. But I saw one gal do it, and I've always wondered how to get across and speak with the guests, so the solution was simple. Duh! Just respond after the AN, even if it isn't in private. But a relationship than none at all.**


	18. The Real Situation of Sebastian Verlac

**Alright, to those I promised in my replies that I'd update on Sunday, I jumped on a light bulb. Yes. I did. It sounds crazy, but it happened. There was this huge gash right on the sole of my foot when the glass bulb broke. I hopped to my bathroom in immense pain and stopped most of the blood flow with toilet paper. **

**I will now tell you the morbid image that helped me into shock; I'd seen this thing on tumblr, where someone put rose petals all over the bathroom floor, and then this person thought it was bloodstains. And then I saw my blood and I realized it looks exactly like that, and then I start to feel my stomach churn and flip flop, my body was racked with some horrible chills, and I puked. I actually puked. I thought I had a stronger stomach than that.**

**Yeah, so I was stuck on the couch for two days basically and couldn't write at all. And last night I got home at 8 PM from a terrible first day back from hobbling around, and auditions, and then play practice . . . It was just a very **_**very**_** long day. SO today is a snow day and I took that advantage to write and update! Yay!**

**So enough of my life, I'm sure half of you skipped this anyways, here's the next chapter!**

**-Lau**

_And so when Jace kicked open the bedroom door, there wasn't an ounce of fear in his whole body. Only adrenaline and excitement pulsing through him._

_And that's when Jace saw him. Saw Sebastian raise the shot gun._

* * *

''Put your gun down or I'll shoot." Sebastian commanded coldly. "Do it now."

Standing his ground, Jace kept his pistol raised, "You can't come out of this, Sebastian. I have my whole team downstairs waiting for you." It was a lie, but it was also a safety precaution to his head knocked off his shoulders.

Almost immediately, the shotgun lowered and Sebastian squinted at him. _"Detective?"_

"Drop your weapon." Jace took a few threatening steps toward the man.

"Okay, Okay! I'll be cooperative. I'm not trying to hurt anyone, I swear!" The gun clattered to the floor, Sebastian wide eyed.

Jace moved gracefully and expertly, bending over and shoving the shotgun across the floor to the door, all the while keeping his pistol trained on Sebastian. He rose up slowly, glaring, "I want you to slowly get on your knees, and keep your hands on your head, alright?"

Sebastian nodded vigorously, obeying his command. "I swear I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm just listening to Clarissa and what she – "

"Shut up." Jace sneered, "You only get to talk when I ask a question . . . understand?"

Another vigorous nod. "Good." Jace smiled, sitting down in an armchair lazily, waving his weapon all around the place, but keeping a quick eye for any slight movements Sebastian might make inside his coat. "We can begin the interrogation now, if you're comfortable."

"I don't think it matters if I'm comfortable or not . . . as long as you get your answers, right?" Sebastian slowly raised his head, speaking in a quiet, dangerous voice.

"You're right," Jace leaned forward, smiling devilishly, "I don't care."

He examined his gun then, smoothing over the cold, hard metal with his finger. "Guns are pretty things, don't you think?"

Sebastian stared at him more in shock than fear. Frankly, _Jace_ was shocked on how he was going about this. Normally he was calm, cool, and closed off. Never was he unhinged, or emotional. Perhaps the scare downstairs, and the buildup of Sebastian's lies, and Clarissa's betrayal, were all getting to him. And Jace just didn't care anymore.

"_What?_" Sebastian blinked, shaking his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Guns." Jace repeated matter of factly. "You obviously needed this one."

Sebastian just stared as Jace crossed the room to get the shotgun, returning to his seat while admiring it.

"Tell me," Jace continued, "if I do a ballistics test on this gun, will it be the same bullet found in the dead body?"

"I don't know." Sebastian admitted, keeping his eyes level with Jace's. "It isn't mine."

"_Of course _it isn't." Jace chuckled, lowering his pistol to the floor. "Then whose is it?"

Sebastian's jaw clenched, his eyes hardening.

"Are you going to answer?" Jace asked cheerfully.

The man kept his head bowed, not daring to look up.

"Alright then." Jace sighed, firing the gun next to Sebastian's foot.

Sebastian's whole body jumped backward, his head snapping up. "HOLY – "

"You know, you should just cooperate, really." Jace swung his pistol around his finger playfully, which Sebastian flinched at. Good. He knew Jace was serious. "I don't have much patience or time for this right now, so as quickly as possible, please. I'm in a bit of a rush."

"It's Clarissa's." Sebastian stammered and blurted. "Clarissa owns it."

"_Good_. Now we're getting somewhere!" Jace smiled, slouching back in his chair. "Do you know where she got it?"

Sebastian paused; Jace clicking the cock in the silent room might as well have sounded like gunshot. His ears buzzed from the previous shot, along with the blood coursing through his veins, pounding faster and faster in the excitement of it all.

"It was me! It was me!" Sebastian shouted, terrified. "I gave it to her."

"Wasn't so hard, now, was it?" Jace set the gun down on his lap, "I hope I won't have to pick this up again."

Sebastian looked away grudgingly and nodded.

Jace sighed, continuing on with the interrogation. "Tell me about the gun, then."

"Ugh, I bought it for her about a month ago." Sebastian started off shakily. "I wasn't . . . home _all_ the time, so I wanted her to be protected. But she thought it was stupid. Clarissa didn't like seeing the thing hanging around her suite, so I compromised that she should have it when she went to the Country House. She'd kept it up in her closet, until, I assume, she left last week, and took it with her."

Jace rubbed his chin, inhaling a sharp breath. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. Clarissa wasn't the murderer; she was the victim. _Her_ life was the one that had been ruined. Everyone she had loved betrayed and abandoned _her_.

But if she left with a shot gun straight to the Country House, then why else would she leave?

And why would she come back?

He stared at Sebastian, who was still trembling with fear – the stupid coward. Over the line, Sebastian sounded as if he knew that she was still alive. He wasn't at all surprised when she called him, and it explained why Sebastian hadn't grieved about her death.

"_I have private reasons."_

That's what Sebastian had said about the key to the house. If Sebastian had known Clarissa wasn't dead, and knew that she'd killed the unknown woman, he could've helped her hide it. Taken the key to the Country House and only reveal it when Clarissa was claimed the victim. Then once the police left to investigate, he could've easily called her up, and told her to clear the house for a while.

A murder well hidden.

Except for the fact that _Jace_ was the detective, and Sebastian made a mistake. Jace had caught up to him, and now, everything made sense.

"So you're here . . . for what reason exactly?" Jace narrowed his eyes, standing up.

"Clarissa asked me to . . . to retrieve it for her."

"Just now?"

Jace motioned for Sebastian to stand up while he nodded. "Yes, she just asked me to."

"In the car."

"Yes, in the car." Sebastian repeated shakily.

"What for?" Jace prodded Sebastian forward, his gun pressing lightly into the other man's back.

"I don't know; I didn't ask her why." He was in a blubbery state, his voice sounded more high pitched and hysteric than usual.

Walking down the staircase, Jace kept his eyes trained on the back of Sebastian head for any sudden movements.

"And why's that? You aren't scared of her, are you?"

"No," Sebastian stopped at the ground floor, sounding reproachful. He eyed Jace over his shoulder, "It's because I _love_ her, and trust her. I don't need to ask questions to do something for her. Especially when she needs me."

Jace tried not to snort at that, and prodded his back to get him moving again toward the car. "We'll see how much of it is the truth once I talk to Clarissa."

"And then?" Sebastian sounded hopeful.

Jace ignored the question, poking his back again. "First, I have to get you back home. My Chief warned you not to leave town until the investigation was over, and you didn't listen. You're lucky I'm not arresting you."

"You're right; I am lucky. I just have a _gun_ to my back." Sebastian yelled over the loud fall of the rain. Jace ignored Sebastian and the icy droplets dragging their way down his spine and shoved Sebastian into the backseat of the car.

"Everything go smoothly?" Jonathon asked once Jace was in the car.

"Yeah." he replied shortly, not wanting to let Sebastian hear their conversation. So he turned around and slammed the back window shut, separating the two of them from Sebastian. "He was inside to retrieve a shot gun for Clarissa."

Jonathan glanced from the road to Jace, his eyes wide. "Are you sure?"

"That's what he told me, at least. I'm not sure if I believe him, though." Jace tried to not glare over his shoulder at the suspect sitting sullenly in the backseat.

"I believe him." Jonathan announced, U – turning and starting on the muddy road. "I mean, it only makes sense. He just met up with Clarissa, wasn't at all surprised about her being alive, and now he's getting a gun? It should be obvious to you by now, with your brilliant brain." Jonathan gave him a nudge at that, grinning boyishly.

Jace tried to smile, but even he could tell it was a weak one.

"Come on, Jace! Cheer up. You're just barely done with this case and you're moping around. Your perfect record of finished cases remains intact. You should be happy, especially after it got super close with Chief."

"Yeah, I guess." Jace murmured, returning to his sulking mood like the one before when driving there.

Jonathan only sighed and shook his head. "Fine; be a little girl if you want to. Just try . . ." His voice faded off, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

"What?" Jace mumbled, glancing at him.

"Ugh . . . It's just . . ." Jonathan peered into his inside mirror, the car slowing to a stop in the middle of the road. It was silent, except for the windshield wipers beating the rain furiously away. "I think Sebastian has a little problem."

Jace frowned and unbuckled, turning to look over his shoulder and halted. "What's _wrong_ with him?"

Jonathan's lips parted, his head shaking. "I have no idea."

"He might be going into shock." Jace realized, shoving the window aside. In the backseat, Sebastian was huddled against himself, his pale face looking as if it were glowing. Shaking his head consistently, his mouth quickly moved to form words too quiet for Jace to hear.

"What is it?" Jace leaned over the window separator, peering into the backseat.

Sebastian glanced up, his eyes large. Jace expected him to look half crazed, given the circumstance, but Sebastian just looked small and scared. "I'm sorry Aline, I'm sorry, I'm sorry sorry sorry sorry . . ." And on he muttered. Jace and Jonathan both caught each other's eye. Jace could tell his partner thought Sebastian had lost it, but after the terrifying experience inside the Country House that Jace had him undergo . . . Perhaps pathetic Sebastian couldn't handle the pressures of guns shot near the body. It happened to Jace all the time, but that was probably a big difference between him and Sebastian . . . So why did he suddenly go into shock now?

"Sebastian," Jonathan said slowly, "Are you alright?"

Sebastian shook his head vigorously now, his eyes watering up. "I'm sorry, Aline."

"Why?" Jace gripped his arm, shaking him a little. "Why are you sorry?"

"She's dead." Sebastian moaned, moisteninghis lips, inhaling sharply. "Aline's dead."

**AAACK WHAT DOES THIS MEAN I DON'T KNOW YOU TELL ME.**

**Actually, I do know what's going on, but I seriously do want to hear what you think; please just tell me! That would be much appreciated. Think we can get it past 280? I think so.**

**Also, I don't think I'll able to update frequently because I have my play performance on the 17th of January, and things are about to get a lot more hectic and later nights for me. Maybe with reviews, I will feel more motivated, if you get what I mean . . . *wink wink***

**Till next time,**

**-Lau**


	19. The Situation of Aline Penhallow

**So three Snow Days = a lot of time to write. Here is the next chapter!**

**Also, I think I'll have Guest reviews at the beginning, instead of the end, so yeah, here they are.**

**Guest 1**

**I KNOW WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED**

**Guest 2**

**I don't think anyone was expecting Clarissa as a suspect. So yeah we have to have some angsty CLACE before perfect CLACE. Of course, the whole love thing isn't what drives the plot, but it does in a way . . .ACK NO I'M GIVING SOMETHING AWAY.  
**

**Guest 3**

**I'm glad you're enjoying the ride; it's going to be a fun one. :D**

**LovetheHerondale**

**First of all, I approve of your name wholeheartedly, and second of all, yes, Sebastian's character has taken an unexpected turn. If it matters, i never thought he had it in him to be the murderer . . . Of course, I'm pretty sure that has something to do with the fact that I KNOW who killed Aline.**

Jace knocked on the door, shifting the heavy, brown paper bag to his other arm. Carrying it up ten flights of stairs left him out of breath and flushed.

"One minute!" Clarissa called from the other side.

Jace tried not to be affected by it. He honestly tried. Now that he knew what Sebastian knew, her voice should be sending hideous racks of revulsion through his body . . .

But her voice was smooth and tinkling in the morning, just a bit low from perhaps a long nights rest. As the door opened, Jace found himself closing his mouth, the back of his throat suddenly very dry. Just her head peaked out from the widening crack, her dazzling green eyes widening when she saw him.

"Good, it's you." was all she said as she opened the door for him. And then Jace had to keep his eyes to the ceiling when he saw what she was wearing. It was what he had seen in her closet the night before. The black, lacy night robe was enough to make his head fog up, his knees tremble, and his heart thump quickly when he just _imagined_ her in it. But now . . . actually seeing her _in_ it, was enough to make him forget his own name, why he was there, and most importantly: whatever this thing called words were for.

Jace wasn't even sure if she was wearing anything underneath, as her pale legs disappeared underneath the long slit. Her long fingers were tying the robe together unceremoniously and the deep v-neck displaying her chest was unfairly low for Jace's nerves.

"What's that?" Clarissa was walking close to him, taking the brown bag from his arm. Jace just stared at her in a state of awe and shock as she looked down into the bag. "Oh, thank goodness! I was almost out of food to eat here!" She laughed and left to the kitchen, Jace following, feeling like a lost puppy. He took the time to lick his dry lips and swallow the thick lump forming in the back of his throat while she wasn't looking.

Clarissa did _not_ need to know how any movement she made was effecting Jace's body. If she did find out, the seductive wench could use that to her advantage. "I did promise to come back in the morning, didn't I?"

"I guess I forgot about that part," Clarissa set the bag down, getting out the glass bottle of milk and loaf of bread.

"It seems that it wasn't the only thing you forgot." Jace was surprised at his own coherency. Maybe his voice sounded a bit scratchier than usual, but how was she to know that?

She was bending over to grab a pan from a cupboard, and Jace had a hard time keeping his eyes up instead of down. She straightened, frowning. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I thought my instructions were clear enough." he found it easier to talk now. He could feel new emotions aside from just whatever physical pleasure Clarissa was inflicting upon him. It was anger, and maybe a little hurt, that she hadn't obeyed him and betrayed his trust in her.

Her lips parted, but then she closed them. She obviously had nothing to justify her actions. "How do you know about that?"

Now Jace was taken aback. If he told her the truth, he'd sound like stalker . . . and wasn't that what she had feared when he'd first met her? "I was outside in my car most of the night."

"You were spying on me?" she cocked her hip, folding her arms.

"Uh, no." Jace blinked and turned his head, grimacing almost in pain at himself. He sounded like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. _He_ was the one in charge, not her, and he was in the right. Definitely not Clarissa.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at an unimpressed Clarissa, and responded, "You honestly think I would risk your safety and not make sure no one went in to finish the job? I don't know if you realized this already, but someone tried to _kill_ you, and they got the wrong person. Do you honestly think that whoever it is, is just going to give up?" Jace gave her one of the less likely theories of what happened that night, but it was the only one that suited his case for following Sebastian and staying outside the hotel most of the night.

She bit her lip and looked down, inhaling sharply. "You're right. I'm sorry. About not listening to you especially . . . I just . . . I _had_ to talk to Sebastian."

Jace tried desperately not to put any hurt into his voice. "What for? What was so important that couldn't wait for ten hours?"

"I . . . I only wanted to know what was happening. That's why I had to call Sebastian." She was biting her lip again, and Jace wasn't sure this was out of nervous habit, or an evil tactic to slowly drive him insane.

"But why didn't you just ask me?" Jace felt his feet move slowly towards her, his hand sliding down the counter, a precautionary support unless his legs might collapse underneath him.

"Please," she smirked, and Jace vaguely noted it as the same one from the portrait, her green eyes shadowed as she looked up through her lashes at him, "do policemen actually _know_ anything?"

Jace felt himself reacting to her with every fiber of his being, and he had no idea what kind of person Clarissa was; apparently it didn't matter to him, because with every sensual burst of _her_, Jace couldn't control it. Unless he wanted to be driven close to insanity with Clarissa dangling herself in front of him, Jace had to close up the case as soon as possible to get _far_, far away from her.

Jace wasn't sure what happened next that made her laugh, but she began to busy herself around the kitchen, cracking three eggs into a bowl and adding just a bit of milk in. "Do you like French Toast?"

Jace shrugged his shoulders, able to find his voice once she wasn't in too close a proximity. "Anything sounds good."

"Oh wow." Clarissa chuckled. He turned his head to see her fingering her robe. "I forgot I even had this thing on."

Jace needed to be blind to not notice her in that. "It's fine. It's early, and you're probably exhausted from the news."

"I guess." she shrugged, flipping two of the pieces of French Toast over. "This thing is basically like a second skin. It usually makes me feel like I'm not wearing anything anyway. Answering the door, I might as well felt like I was naked."

Jace rubbed his forehead, trying not to stare at her. Never before had he met a woman so bold and unreserved. And unashamed. Normally, when flirting with young woman at social events, Jace would show off his wit, the girl swooned, maybe they would find a secluded corner somewhere and have a heated making out session, and Jace would never see the girl again.

But how on earth could he do that, and keep a girl, when half the time Jace was tongue tied?_ No,_ Jace was _not_ trying to keep Clarissa - she was still engaged, not to mention the prime suspect in the case, and any kind of relationship during an investigation was forbidden by the Department.

And it made sense; Jace's emotions were blinding him from any kind of rational thought. His feelings were getting in the way of Jace finishing off the stupid case.

And it didn't help that Clarissa was just _trying_ to make him incoherent.

"Do you know how to make these?" Clarissa questioned him, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"Uh, no . . . I normally just buy some cereal and head off to work immediately."

She gave him an astonished look. "You don't cook _at all_?"

"Does making a sandwich count?"

She just shook her head at him. "You're learning _right now_ how to make French Toast."

Jace just stared at her. Both her eyebrows were raised, as if challenging him to say no, and her green eyes were bright and alive, sparkling with laughter. She looked determined with the spatula in hand, looking ready to swat his head. "Okay."

She beamed up at him and Jace found that he must've forgotten how to breath, not that he needed to at that moment. Because right then, he felt as if he were suspended in air and that time suddenly had slowed down.

Jace was suddenly plummeted down to earth when her hands, small and forceful, were pushing him toward the griddle.

"This is really easy." Clarissa was saying, "All you have to do is kind of dip the bread into the into the eggs, both sides, like this - " she instructed, wrapping his wrist with her hand, which was shaking _due_ to _her_, " - and then just set it down on the griddle. See? It really is easy."

"Now what?"

"Well, you keep dipping the bread, and then once the first one is done, you flip it over." Clary motioned with her hands, turning her gaze from the half cooked toast, to Jace. She was biting her lip again, and now Jace was completely convinced: it was an evil tactic to further drive him closer to the edge of insanity.

She was still watching him, for what exactly, Jace had no idea, but it felt like she was examining every single detail of his face. It was only a few seconds later when he realized she was waiting for him to say something expectantly.

"Yeah?" Jace stuttered, not sure what the hell he just agreed to do.

Great. Just put the rest of these onto the griddle while I, um . . . change my _lack_ of clothes."

"Yeah, sure." Jace nodded, moving in front of the griddle and taking the spatula from her hands, ignoring the rush of heat he felt when her fingers brushed his palm lightly. As long as she changed out of that infernal piece of clothing, Jace might be able to control his heart rate to a regular pace.

But still, Jace kept his eyes on her the entire time, allowing himself one last look over his shoulder as her body glided to the door, the movement ruffling the long skirt, revealing even more of her leg and half her thigh. When was he going to get an opportunity to see her in that again? The moment the door swung shut, Jace slid down to the floor, trying to will his chest to stop moving so fast. He swore, Clarissa Fairchild would be the death of him.

Jace shakily got up to his feet, running cold water from the kitchen sink and splashing his face thoroughly. He should do better than this; how Sebastian could manage touching and kissing -sex - Jace was too overwhelmed by just _looking_ at her. To have her touching him passionately, and Jace being able to -

No.

Jace wasn't allowed to think about that.

And that's all he could do. Pine and think and look, because if nothing could come out of a relationship with someone dead, then nothing could come out of a relationship with a girl, already taken and in love, perhaps a murderer, or perhaps with a bright future before her.

And she was most likely a murderer after Sebastian had related his tale to Jonathan and Jace.

Sebastian had told them everything the night before, and everything made sense now. Sebastian and Aline had the "meeting" as planned, as marked in Clarissa's last journal entry, _" . . . so Sebastian has to meet up with her one more time while I'm gone."_

The "meeting" took place as soon as Sebastian got home, furious with Clarissa, and Sebastian informed Jace that he had been sexually involved with Aline since the beginning of the advertising deal.

_Sebastian shakily recalled : " . . . mostly because I was bored, and upset those last two weeks. There was something off about Clarissa . . . I think she found out about Kaelie, or maybe even Aline. I still can't tell." _

_"And what happened the night of the murder? What did you see?" Jace asked intently, leaning forward._

_"Well we were . . .we were on the _couch_ . . .and well, the doorbell rang. We thought maybe they'd go away, but whoever it was just kept on ringing. So I told Aline to go answer it. One, because it might look suspicious if it was me there alone and two: she was the one with . . . eh, more clothes on. The lights were off because . . . well . . . you know why, and then Aline . . ." Sebastian choked for a moment, struggling to continue. "She screamed . . . it was so high, and then that blasted gun went off, and I heard the thud of her body, and this awful splat . . . I'm pretty sure it was her head flying all over the walls."_

_Jace bit his lip; he'd seen the crime scene photos before it had been cleaned up. He didn't want to imagine it fresh._

_"I saw the person bending down a couple steps in from the door. I just sat there waiting on the couch for them to see me. But they never did. They ran out before I could see the face. And then I heard Dorothea's heavy steps coming from the room over next and I knew that if I didn't run now, everyone would suspect me. So I put thee wine bottle Aline and I had been using back on the rack, hoping no one would notice it was open and grabbed my clothes and ran." Jace felt satisfaction in noting that the wine, though he had no idea how it connected to the case at the time, it was from Sebastian.  
_

_"You didn't call the police about it?" Jonathan inquired._

_"No, I knew Dorothea would anyways. I just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible."_

_"But you knew the entire time that Clarissa would come back at some point. Didn't you assume . . ."_

_"Well . . . Not exactly. I wasn't sure if she'd come back at all." Sebastian swallowed thickly. "I wasn't sure if she was innocent then, either."_

_"And what has you convinced now?" Jace sneered, narrowing his eyes._

_Sebastian glared at him. "I talked to her; we told each other everything that had happened, and I believe, just as she believes, that we are both innocent."_

_Jonathan and Jace traded unsure looks. Sebastian was in blind, guilty love. He would probably try to convince himself anything to keep his precious Clarissa out of prison._

Jace wiped the remaining droplets of cold water off his face when he smelled something burning. Jace swore, flipping the raw side of the French Toast to face the griddle, grimacing at the charred black. So much for Clarissa's lesson.

XXX.

Jace had finished the whole batch of French Toast without burning any of the rest of them. And by then, he knew something was up. Jace wasn't a woman, but he knew that it didn't take twenty minutes to put on some clothes. Perhaps Jace had been wrong, and Sebastian was right; Clarissa was innocent and the murderer had come to finish her off, while Jace busied himself with flipping stupid French Toast. All because he was distracted by probably the prettiest face he'd ever seen.

Only . . . no one knew that Clarissa was alive, except Sebastian and himself. And Sebastian already was ruled off the suspect list, so who else could've come and killed her? Obviously, she _was_ the killer, and she was running away, finished off Jace by distraction, knowing that she could get him to do anything with just the will of her body . . .

Only . . .if she wanted to run, why not do it last night, when no one was watching her?

Jace shook his head; he really needed to stop thinking and just trust his instincts . . . Which lately were telling him to grab Clarissa and have his way with her. But luckily her was able to resist _that_ instinct the past twenty four hours . . . But any more hours with her alone . . . Jace couldn't tell what he'd do next.

He held up his gun, shifting from the kitchen, into the sitting room and right outside her bedroom door. Jace took a deep breath, slowly turning the knob, the crack allowing him a small view inside . . .

And closed the door again.

It was highly unexpected, but also should have been obvious to Jace the moment Clarissa opened the door to let him. The night robe, the messy hair . . .

Jace should've seen it coming. Should've expected it, even.

Clarissa wasn't alone in her bedroom.

Shirtless, he sat on the edge of her bed, his hands gliding up her smooth legs, slowly moving underneath her nightgown. She was there, her knees planted on either side of him, attacking his lips with hers, her fingers wrapped fiercely in his hair.

Sebastian obviously hadn't stayed at his house once Jace and Jonathan dropped him off.

The sickening feeling in Jace's stomach was growing, along with the stuttering of his heart. Yes, Clarissa had been distracting him, but only to get more time with her _precious_ Sebastian.

Anger began to bubble right in the pit of his abdomen, and for a moment all Jace could see was red.

Now, for certain, Jace knew that everything Clarissa had told him was a lie, and therefore, by natural deduction, he couldn't trust the little snake.

Jace raised his fist, ready for whatever awkward exchange would come next, he knock once . . . twice.

**Next chapter I'm promising to have some awkward, heated conversations . . . Between Jace and Clarissa especially, along with a third wheeling idiot and imbecile, none other than Sebastian Verlac. It will be interesting to see those three together in a room, knowing as much as they all know. **

**But can we just talk about how horny Jace was in this chapter? I would love to have the ability to explain it . . . but this is I guess what we were missing when I had Clarissa's POV chapter 15. Other than that, this is the second time we see Clace interacting together! WOOHOOO! **

**-Lau**


	20. The Situation of Arguements

**I'm sorry for the long wait, but I think the last update was only two or three days after the one before, so you all were being spoiled at my excitedness. It's been crazy in my life right now while I'm juggling writing, schoolwork, papers, and musical practices. But since you've all waited over a month, I won't rant about all my problems so you can start sooner.**

**Guests:**

**Lovetheherondale: Interesting theory . . . Which is what I can only say to anyone cause that would be spoilers. And that would e bad. Very bad. And thank you! You should watch the movie (AFTER) I based it on. I change it up, but a lot of it is similar. A LOT. But no one's allowed to watch until after this fic is done.**

**Famous0618: My sentiments exactly. Jace is such a hunkalicious gorgeous man why go after the sniveling wonder Sebastian? Who knows. She needs to sort out her priorities.  
**

**Guest: I'm sorry to disappoint with the late update, but it's better than never. And I've been able to think a lot over this chap, so i hope you enjoy it!**

**u dnt evn no me: Again, sorry to disappoint with the delayed update, but yeah Seb is a scumbag pig through and through I don't think anyone can NOT notice, haha. He really is such a pig. I wish I could kill him off. Truly. **

**-Lau**

There was a small yelp, a few crude words muttered by Sebastian, and a ruffling of clothes.

Obviously Nice Guy Jace hadn't worked before, and a different tactic was needed to get answers, Jace mused while he waited on the other side of the door. He could hear snid bits of their conversations like:

"Who is . . ."

" . . . Detective came in again . . ."

" . . . let him in!?"

"He's a cop! What else was I supposed to do?" Clarissa hissed loudly.

" . . . needs a warrant! You could've - "

"Yes, thank you, Sebastian." she snapped, and afterwards, Jace couldn't hear other conversation.

The door flung open, Clarissa in the center of it, luckily wearing _clothes _this time. Plastered onto her face was a fake, strained smile. "Yes?"

"French Toast is getting cold." Jace managed to say in his iciest tone.

"Oh," she said breathily, glancing over her shoulder quickly. "I must've let time get away from me."

Jace rolled his eyes, replying sullenly, "Try not to make it a habit to lie to me, Clarissa. You'll find that you will regret it."

Her eyes widened, stuttering, "I'm . . . I'm afraid I don't know what you – "

"Really?" Jace cut in smoothly, "I did hope you were smarter than this. Obviously the world _is_ just a full of disappointment."

"I _beg_ your pardon?" She was on the defensive now, and Jace felt sickening satisfaction that he could get under her skin so quickly.

"Three times you've lied to me, and if you do it again, I –"

"_What_? . . . Are you going to arrest me?" she retorted coolly, raising both eyebrows.

"I _could_ . . . Or I _could_ arrest whoever is in your room back there."

Clarissa's mouth parted, and then snapped shut. "How did you – "

"Tell Sebastian that he should cuss a little more quietly before dropping you onto the floor."

Her cheeks inflamed almost immediately. "How did you –"

Jace found himself cutting off the same question again. "My powers of deduction are impressive, I must admit. But most of it contributes to the fact that I am a cop, and luckily, I know _some_ things." Jace sneered, referencing their conversation earlier in the kitchen.

Her green eyes just stared back at him in shock, as if she couldn't get through of what he was saying. "Look," she breathed, "I'm sorry –"

"I don't need your apology, nor do I want it." Jace was ready to pat himself on the back because of his coherency. And surprisingly, five minutes ago, He would have been appalled by what he was saying, but a lot, obviously, could change in five minutes. "I'm just telling you to not make it a habit of lying to me, and to yourself as well."

There was a pause while she studied him. Leaning against the doorway and folding her arms, Clarissa's eyebrows crinkled together. Jace imagined that she was mostly wondering what had gotten into him; one second he was submissive and persuadable, now he was indifferent and rude. "Alright." she finally said.

"Then you're willing to tell me the actual truth this time?" Jace tried not too sound hopeful.

"Yes. I'll tell you everything I told Sebastian last night."

XXX.

Jace was sitting on his couch (yes, he had claimed a spot in her suite after so many hours in there – nothing weird or intimate about it, thank you very much) and Clarissa was across him, perched nervously on the edge of her loveseat.

"Can you begin right after you left Mr. Starkweather?"

She sighed. "I completely forgot about him. He's hardly crossed my mind . . . Hmm, well. I left to my apartment after Sebastian and I fought, along with the argument with Hodge." she actually laughed for a moment, pushing back a few strands away from her face. "I was so angry that night. I was practically fuming in my cab the entire time.

"And imagine my anger when I come into my suite, _my suite_, to find Sebastian setting up a candle lit dinner, with Aline right next to him? well. Anyone can imagine what I was feeling."

"I was furious. I was so close to striking him . . . But I didn't, and packed up as quickly as possible. The whole time, he was over my shoulder, trying to apologize. But I was so done, and sick of everyone here. All that I needed was to be isolated from everyone in this stupid town. I left and paid my taxi driver a pretty heavy sum for leaving town and into the country, and then I stayed at the Country House the entire time."

Jace winced at that lie; the police had been there, and it was empty with absolutely no one around in a five mile radius. "What company was the taxi from?"

"Ugh, I don't know . . . um, the one with the silver logo and stuff – "

"J. Carstairs?" Jace interjected, writing it down in his notepad.

"Yep! That's the one." Clarissa said, relieved.

"And you didn't hear anything whatsoever about how you were murdered?" Jace stood up, making his way to the end of the coffee table to stand over her, trying weakly to intimidate her into answering truthfully.

"No! I was completely alone the entire time. No one called me, and I had no way of hearing that sort of thing."

"Not even a radio?" Jace bent down on his haunches, gazing intently at her. She didn't look nervous, by the resilient look of her eyes, and the flare of her nose. But something about her was off, which Jace hadn't noticed before. It was in the crease between her eyebrows, and the rigid way she sat.

"No, it was broken. There was no possible way I could have heard anything."

He snorted, keeping his head bowed.

"_Excuse me_?"Clarissa retorted

"I'm sorry," Jace laughed, "It's just very, _very_ convenient."

She glared daggers at him. "I didn't kill Aline! I'm not the kind of person who would murder someone just because I didn't like them!"

"But you didn't just dislike Aline. You hate her, don't you? Well . . . _hated_ her I guess is a better use for it. Aline was, probably in your mind, who was causing troubles in you and Sebastian's relationship." Jace noticed her jaw tighten, and her eyes darken in anger. Her fingers were gripping the arm rest as Jace leaned toward her. "You're happy." he realized, and the piercing, vicious glare sent his way only confirmed the statement. "You're happy that she's dead, aren't you?"

"Well . . ." she spluttered, "wouldn't you be?! She was sleeping with my future husband! I couldn't say that I'm glad if she was still alive, no. And I'm not happy, as I'm more relieved. Relieved that he won't be tempted again."

"Is that what you think happened?" Jace shook his head at her. Something was severely wrong with her thinking process of Sebastian. Any woman who respected herself would ditch that kind of man on the Highway, his pockets turned out. But perhaps Clarissa didn't respect herself. But why wouldn't she? "Clarissa, he wasn't forced into the affair. He willingly consented to have Aline here. Called her up, in fact, once he left the concert."

"I . . . I know that. I know that he's made mistakes. And I have too. I pried into his private business, and he – "

"His personal life_ is_ your business!" Jace exploded, straightening up, towering over her. "If he's supposed to be your husband soon, then he should feel no other ties to any woman. Looking at another should be a crime to you! If you're going to marry him, as I assume you are, after that scene just a few minutes ago, then you should _make_ it you business!" This was something Jace had felt building up the entire time, even when she was presumed dead. How she could let herself stay with a scumbag like Sebastian, when she deserved so much better?

"I didn't know my personal life had anything to do with the investigation." Clarissa snapped, standing up from her seat, keeping her back to him.

"The investigation has everything to do with you!" She was just inches away from him, from Jace grabbing and shaking some sense into her. But he couldn't will himself to touch her, in case he might falter, and Jace needed every ounce of strength in him. "Everything connects back to you!"

"Does whether or not I marry Sebastian matter in regards to finding the killer?" She turned around swiftly, a livid expression upon her face.

"Well . . ." he was caught off guard, and Clarissa noticed, obviously with smug satisfaction. Jace was struggling for something to say, for any excuse other than the fact that it was a personal reason. And the personal reason being that Jace was in love with her, and that he cared about her happiness, and if he had Sebastian's opportunity to worship her night and day, he would do it in less than a heartbeat.

It had nothing to do with the case, but with whether or not Jace could live with himself for the rest of his life. And it didn't matter if she was a murderer; maybe in the heat of the moment, Clarissa came back and killed Aline. Maybe Aline even deserved it . . .

"It's motive." Jace said finally.

She was frowning at him now, instead of the previously furious expression. "And what do you mean by that?"

"I mean that," Jace began to explain, surprised at the impromptu reason he was about to give, "the reason you killed her for was to save your future marriage. If you really are this determined to save the engagement, to stay with him, then my theory of your motive is most likely correct."

"I didn't kill her!" Clarissa nearly screamed at him.

At this, Sebastian came in through the door hurriedly, stopping once he was next to Clarissa's side. "Ah, Sebastian, it's nice to see you dressed and ready for the day." Jace remarked, sickenly pleasant.

"What's going on in here?" Sebastian inspected Clarissa, taking hold of her hands and eyeing her up and down. "Are you okay?"

Jace restrained a snort; as if he would even dare lay a finger on her.

"I'm fine." she replied in a huff.

"Are you?" Sebastian looked unsurely between Jace and Clarissa.

"My temper is just rising again, as usual." She gave Sebastian a tight lipped smile, which seemed enough to reassure him.

"Well then, I think it's time for you to leave, Detective." Sebastian straightened up, his chin rising. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Jace couldn't hold back a laugh. Did Sebastian actually think he had _any_ power over Jace? "Thanks for the offer, Sebastian, but I don't think I'll take you up on it."

The couple watched Jace as he sat back down on his couch, and stretch out on it. "It . . . It wasn't an offer."

"I didn't think it was," Jace smiled knowingly, "but it doesn't mean I'll actually listen to you."

Sebastian was frowning now, glancing over at Clarissa in a "back-me-up" sort of way. "Well . . . I think – "

"I _think_ that I've made it clear that I don't give a damn about what you have to say, Sebastian, so you might as well shut up and stop talking." Jace snapped. It was only a week and a half or so since Jace had started this case, and he couldn't stand Sebastian any longer. He was one of those people Jace would never be able to learn to like. Or understand. It perhaps was the reason why Jace still suspected him, even after the story that for the most part, explained a lot of questions Jace had. It even matched up with what Clarissa had to say.

Of course, they could've just as easily made sure that they told the same story, as they _were_ partners in crime.

"I _think_ . . ." Jace paused, throwing a hateful glare at Sebastian, "that _you_ should leave . . . now. And return only after I tell you you can."

Sebastian's eyebrows rose to his hairline, and for a long moment, remained speechless. "Excuse me?"

"You _are_ excused, Sebastian. Thank you for offering it yourself. You may leave while I finish this interrogation." Jace smirked at the incredulous look from Sebastian, as he gathered his coat by the door and left furiously. Clarissa looked, if anything amused.

"Where were we?" Jace pursed his lips, staring down at his notes.

"I believe we were yelling at one another about motives about killing Aline Penhallow." Clarissa started dryly. "Who I _didn't_ kill, by the way, if you had any doubts before."

"If it is only by your word that you're not a murderer, then I think I'll need a little more proof."

She parted her lips, thrusting a hand to her chest dramatically. "Sir, I am most honorable, and my word is not to be taken lightly."

"Well," Jace laughed, "I'm sorry to offend. I only want to make sure I catch the right killer."

"Of course." she nodded and played with her fingers on her lap, before covertly glancing up at him. "_And_ . . . I'm sorry for this morning and lying to you. It was unfair. And for losing my temper . I've always let it get the best of me."

Jace shook his head and held his hand up to stop her from apologizing about whatever sin she felt guilty of next. "I was the one to provoke you. I knew what I was doing and how angry you were."

There was a break in the conversation, both Jace and Clarissa pausing to study each other. She sucked in her cheeks, frowning. She finally glanced down, hands wringing together. "You are a master manipulator, aren't you, Mr. Herondale."

"I am the best in my trade of work." Jace boasted nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

"And I suppose you think me a master manipulator as well, given that you suspect me." She raised her eyebrows, crossing her ankles out in front of her.

"Perhaps." He swallowed thickly. It felt like Jace had just entered a battle of wits, both of them trying to pry out an answer of the other without the person suspecting. Only Jace knew what he wanted to know from her, but he had no idea what Clarissa could possibly want from him. "Truth is a slippery thing. Once you think that you've got a good grip on it, it jumps from you so quickly."

"I'm not going to slip from your fingers, if that's what you're worried about." Clarissa gave him a small smile.

Jace bit his lip, wishing that he could have her in his grasp, to hold for a very, very long time with the way she was teasing him with her grin. "Then you will answer any further questions with honesty."

"Of course." Clarissa nodded immediately.

"Alright." Jace sucked in a relieved breath. "You say that you were at your house the entire week, but the police came on Tuesday. Where were you?"

"Oh." She frowned, and then: "I was out taking a walk. I find that nature sooths me. It is for that exact reason I left."

"They looked in a five mile radius – there was no one there."

"Well, it was a long walk. Very long."

"Mhmm." Jace pretended to draw on his notepad .

"Anything else?"

"Did anyone visit you while you were away?"

"No."

"And you say that your radio was broken?"

"Well, broken when I got there." She added hurriedly. "But it was fixed before I left by a man in town."

"So you _did_ have someone over?"

"Well . . ." she blinked, rethinking her words. "I guess I did. But we aren't acquaintances; I'd only just met him and then he left immediately after I paid him."

"What was his name?"

"I think it was . . . a Mr. Aldertree?" Clarissa's face screwed up. "I think that's his name, at least. I didn't think it that important when it happened." Clarissa swallowed thickly, adding sullenly, "I didn't think I'd be a suspect in a murder case either."

"I'm sorry this happened to you." Jace said finally, after a long pause. For a moment, all Jace could think about was how Clarissa had to be innocent. Someone sweet and wonderful and perfect couldn't possibly have been responsible for the death of her rival.

But she wasn't perfect, Jace's mind reminding him of the time this morning – playing him so easily, and then running off into Sebastian's arms only seconds later. No, she definitely wasn't perfect, but Clarissa was still convinced that she was in love with Sebastian.

And she was wrong: her heart was meant to belong to someone else. It was up to Jace to completely convince her.

**So Jace has finally taken up the task to start to woo. Gotta love him. Perhaps now that Clarissa wasn't with Sebastian, you'll be happier with her character. She's just a confused, lost soul. . . . Or she's a heartless murderer. Anyone actually suspect her? Any suspects that you think could've pulled it off at all? **

**Oh! And We've reached the twenty chapter mark! WOOHOO! GO LAU you rock. But really, you guys rock more than I do, because you review and support and encourage in such wonderful ways. I really hope you've enjoyed the chapter and teh story as a whole. We've already hit the half way mark! YEAH! **

**-Lau**


	21. The Situation of The Suspects

**So I just found out my dad is letting me stay home from school tomorrow, and I'm on a sugar high from eating a bunch of cookie dough, and I'm about to update and I don't have my Musical until 9 PM, and life is good. So therefore, I hope that you all review and like this chapter. It is pretty short, but I wanted it to stop right where it ended, and so everything before then was kinda improvised and not a scene I imagined and kind of came out of nowhere. tha's , though. I like where it's taken me. So I hope you enjoy! Love ya guys! **

**-Lau**

There was awkward tension in the room once Jace had invited Sebastian back in the suite. Awkward, because no one seemed to have anything else to say once Jace got off the phone, telling Hodge to get over to the room as soon as possible, and tensions rising, because Sebastian seemed to throw daggers at Jace at any chance he could get. It didn't bother Jace that much, but it definitely was more difficult to spark a conversation if the other looked like they wanted to stab you repeatedly.

Jace would've preferred to have just Clarissa present, but there was no other point in keeping Sebastian outside once the interrogation was finished, and Jace had described his next plan of action to her. Jace averted his gaze to Clarissa, hiding (hopefully) the awe of her actually sitting in front of him. Was it really less than 24 hours since he'd seen her in the flesh? Alive?

With her arrival she brought many answers-Jace wasn't sure which ones were true or false- and dug up more questions. Clarissa was alive, Aline was the real victim, Sebastian and Aline had been sleeping together, Clarissa actually made it to the country house, but where was the murder weapon, who was the one to interrupt Sebastian and Aline, and did Clarissa ever leave her house?

And that was just skimming the surface. Some questions, of course, didn't pertain to the case at all. Such as: does Clarissa still love Sebastian, why couldn't she see reason around him, and did she actually know Jace's _name_?

_It's odd to know so much about someone else, and they don't have a clue about you. _Jace looked at Clarissa and could remember so many stories, all the details in the letters, the memories in her journal, and saw the portrait, her painted image smiling at him. Even if it at times the smiled varied to one from innocence, to sultry, to mysterious, and then smugness, Jace knew that _that_ woman in the painting, was the girl he fell in love with. And the unknown person sitting across from him didn't feel or act like the woman he'd imagined.

The Clarissa in front of him was unknown and unpredictable. She'd made more mistakes than correct since her arrival, and she still continued to lie. Plus, the Clarissa in front of him didn't _love_ him. She didn't know him, granted, but that had been the key thing in his mind. If he had managed to fall in love with her, then it wasn't too hard for Clarissa to, either.

"So you don't plan on telling Hodge the truth?" Clarissa broke the silence, her eyebrows raised at Jace in a professional and poised position. "You didn't tell him I'm still alive?"

"No," Jace replied, "the whole point of this . . . _exercise_ . . . is the reactions. I would've done the same thing to Sebastian, but as the circumstances are a bit different, I'll just have to guess what he'd have looked like."

"I'm sure it would have been as anyone would assume." Sebastian sniffed.

"Why does his reaction mean so much?" Clarissa ignored Sebastian's comment, stopping Jace from replying something snarky.

"Well, there are all sorts of things it could mean. For example, if he were to cry, he'd be relieved, happy, etc. But if it was delayed surprise, then it might mean he already knew that your demise wasn't actually real, like Mr. Verlac here. He wasn't exactly good at showing remorse when you were gone."

"Is there anything else you can imagine Hodge doing when he sees me? Other than crying."

Jace shrugged. "Knowing his character, I don't think there's anything he else he can do."

"There I think you're wrong." Clarissa said, "I can't imagine him crying, because Hodge never has shed a tear in front of me."

"We'll see then, won't we?" Jace challenged, raising an eyebrow.

The break in which Clarissa studied Jace, made him realize Sebastian was again glaring daggers at him. Really, could he be more obvious? All the angry looks from Sebastian only spurred Jace further to bother him in any way possible.

"When Hodge does arrive," Jace glanced at Sebastian for a moment, "Do not mention to him what you've told me. I don't want him to know that you knew Clarissa is alive."

She frowned. "Why can't Hodge know?"

"Suspects aren't supposed to know everything that happens within the case. That would kind of ruin the idea of having a suspect. You don't tell possible killers where you live, where your kids go to school at, and what new information is leading to someone's arrest. It just doesn't happen that way . . . And for a good reason too. There's a reason why a suspect is a suspect."

"Because their _susp_icious." Sebastian added, smiling at his own wit.

Jace couldn't stop his eyes from rolling. "An amazing play on words, Sebastian. Your knowledge never ceases to amaze me." Jace drawled dryly.

Clarissa tried to hold back a laugh, a hand to her mouth, but the snort was still heard by everyone in the room. Sebastian's cheeks inflamed, mortified that even his fiancé couldn't refrain from making fun of him. "Perhaps it is time for me to leave, since you two can hardly control yourselves." Sebastian spat, rising from the loveseat.

"No, wait Sebastian . . . It was just a joke."

"It was actually just rude." Sebastian was grabbing his coat, with Clarissa hovering behind him, pleading him to stay. "I'll see you tonight?"

Clarissa bit her lip as Sebastian stared at her seriously, shoving his hat onto his head. "Don't leave, Sebastian. "

"Yes please don't leave!" Jace called from where he sat. "It's a whole lot more fun when you're around. If you leave, you'll be taking away our entertainment!"

Sebastian sneered at him, storming furiously toward the door before turning around, telling Clarissa: "I'll come back when he isn't here." he stabbed another glare at Jace before slamming the door shut behind him.

"Really! When do you stop!" Clarissa turned immediately toward him, furious, her eyes ablaze.

"Well, I've succeeded in making him leave, so I believe my work is done." Jace grinned lazily, stretching his arms behind him.

"What do you have against Sebastian? Really? He isn't all bad-"

"I can't stand him, that's all." Jace cut in. "I hate him for so many reasons. But I don't think I'll share all of them with you."

There was a pause in her yelling at him, which gave her a chance to regain her composure. Clarissa licked her lips, biting down on the lower. She sat next to him, her bloodshot eyes pleading to him. "Tell me them. All of them."

"I don't think . . ." Jace's eyebrows furrowed, the ends of his lip creasing down. This was an unexpected turn in events.

"I need a reminder. Tell me. . . " she said slowly, pausing mid-sentence, making Jace feel like he was suspended in air. Her dark eyes searched his face, and Jace felt himself wanting to tell her _exactly_ why he hated Sebastian, above anyone else. "Tell me . . . so I can have a reason to hate him, too."

"Wha-"

Before Jace could express shock beyond a dumbfounded look, the door opened, Hodge nearly yelling in a panicky voice, "What's happening? What did you want to-"

Upon one look of her, Hodge's eyes bugged out. His already pale complexion turned to the shade of milk. And Jace knew, a split second before it would happen.

Hodge collapsed onto the floor, slamming his head against a chair.

_I don't think either of us was expecting that._

**Another cliffie sorry but not sorry. Updates won't take an entire month now because I just finished my musical on Saturday. It was pretty awesome, and our closing night was given a standing ovation immediately. So everything has taken a relaxing turn in my life, so I can write a WHOLE lot more. I've almost had a withdrawal from it, if you may. **

**Anyways, what do you think of Hodge's reaction? Clarissa and Jace's conversation? Why do you think Clarissa wants to hate Sebastian? So many questions that need answering I wonder how I'm going to do it . . . **

**-Lau**


	22. The Situation of Brooding

**See? I wasn't lying when I toild you I was going to update more frequently! not even a week! Yeah you go Lau, you deserve some love. And by love I mean some follows, favorites, and vreviews! This has plenty of broody Jace (Is there any other kind?) and Clarissa, which is what you all have been asking for since the beginning of the fic, so some feedback is great and much thanked!**

**Pheonix: Thank you! This being the first I've written in Jace's POV, I'm having fun with it and I'm glad you're enjoying it too.**

**Read and Enjoy!**

**-Lau**

_Upon one look of her, Hodge's eyes bugged out. His already pale complexion turned to the shade of milk. And Jace knew, a split second before it would happen._

_Hodge collapsed onto the floor, slamming his head against a chair._

_I don't think either of us was expecting that._

Chapter 22

Clarissa swore and leaped to her feet. She sprinted toward the heap on the floor and near tackled it. "The poor dear." She pushed on his side, his back on the floor. "He's out cold!" she shouted to Jace, who was standing up. "Help me get him into my bed."

Jace snorted, coming closer and hooking his arms underneath Hodge's. "I wonder what he would give for you to say that to him while he's conscious."

"Oh shut up, will you." she snapped shortly, but the small blush in her cheeks really just admitted her embarrassment.

"Sorry, Ms. Fairchild." Jace grunted, heaving Hodge upward and hauling him to the next room. Clarissa jumped ahead of him, opening her bedroom door and lifting his feet. They both carried and dropped him onto the bed, Clarissa fussing over him.

"I keep forgetting how fragile and old he's getting." Clarissa murmured, situating his head onto a pillow, inspecting the large bump on his hairline from where he had slammed it against the chair.

"I think your leaving took quite a toll on him." Jace said, remembering the forlorn look at the dinner a few nights ago. The story of Clarissa and Hodge's meeting and relationship seemed to drain a few weeks of his life away, and it showed. Bags under his eyes much more noticeable than before suggested lack of sleep and the fainting was probably a sign of malnutrition.

"I feel awful for doing it to him. He looks absolutely dreadful." Clarissa bit her lip, her eyes watering.

"Just don't say that to him when he's awake. I don't think he'll appreciate it."

She let herself laugh, the sound just a little teary. "I'd completely forgotten about him at the country house. It seems unfair that he probably hasn't gone a minute without thinking of me. But I was occupied . . . with someone else." she finished bitterly.

There was silence afterwards, Clarissa stroking Hodge's hair back. Oddly enough, Jace didn't feel any kind of jealousy. Her view of the relationship was completely platonic - a mentor and the young apprentice. She probably thought it more of a father-daughter relationship. Jace remembered from studying her file that her father had left her and her mother before Clarissa could learn how to say "Dada". So when a father figure had finally made his arrival, Clarissa had clung to him, hoping to please him and accept her.

Jace sighed inwardly. The poor girl. She didn't have a very good taste in men; Hodge was cold and calculating, and Sebastian . . . Jace couldn't even begin to count his many, many flaws.

_"Tell me . . . so I can have a reason to hate him too." _He thought about their previous conversation, which had just barely taken place five minutes ago. What on earth did she mean by that? Did Clarissa actually realize how horrible Sebastian was to her? Was she being forced into the relationship?

A flash to this morning and Jace interrupting the two told him that no, she wasn't being forced physically. Maybe she was just in extreme denial.

"So despite your previous decision, you are still planning to follow through with the marriage?" Jace's words sounded harsh to his ears, ripping the silence away in the room. Something told him it wasn't that simple, but bluntly and outright was the only way Jace could bring up the topic.

Clarissa looked at him. A piece of hair had fallen from behind her ear, and she looked a little flushed from carrying Hodge in. Jace couldn't read the reserved expression that she gave him, and he couldn't tell if she was angry or upset or annoyed.

"Why does it matter so much to you?" she asked it calmly. She, luckily, didn't sound offended, but just mildly curious. "You've asked me more times than I can count."

"I'm just wondering how you can change your answer in less than 10 hours, on a question that took you a whole week to consider." It was the secondary reason why he cared so much; the primary obviously wouldn't be shared to any living soul.

She sighed heavily, like the truth was weighing her down. "We made a decision together in the car." she began, "Sebastian told me how he was the leading suspect, and how you didn't trust him . . . So I thought that it would be best to keep the engagement going. I don't want him to look even more suspicious, and me breaking off the marriage plans would only bring him under more doubt from the cops. We thought it best to stand together as a couple, and take everything together. It'll be easier for me, and for him."

Jace nodded; he didn't like them being together again, but he supposed most of it made sense. Clarissa leaving him the moment she got back would definitely have raised up questions. "So you plan on marrying him as planned?"

Clarissa's lips thinned into a straight line. "I don't know. I know we'll be acting as if we're following through with the wedding, but after the investigation is over, I'm not sure."

If Sebastian was the killer, then it would definitely stop the wedding, Jace realized, a small, disturbing flame of hope erupting. Never had Jace looked beyond the bands of justice to incriminate someone else. And it was more than shocking to Jace.

"I don't think-" Jace began, but didn't finish, as Hodge began to stir, and Clarissa knelt next to the bed beside him.

"Hodge? Hodge are you all right?" She looked imploringly into his half awakened face. "I'm here. I'm right here."

Jace felt like he was intruding when Hodge pulled her in for an embrace. Hodge's older face was worn and wrinkled as it always had appeared to him (other than the large, red bump still growing on his forehead), but he looked different.

Relieved: yes.

Happy: yes.

Was his reaction what Jace had expected it to be? Yes, it was.

But the fainting bit threw him off. Was he so shocked to faint? After all, Jace and Hodge both loved her, and Jace had felt near fainting . And Hodge was older and frailer, so it must have been easier to do so.

Still, Jace's stomach churned unpleasantly. He probably felt off because Hodge was in the room, and something about the man had always unnerved him. Hodge was intelligent, and Jace didn't do well to feeling inferior.

"You . . . This can't be happening!" Hodge stuttered, staring at Clarissa in shock once they'd pulled away.

"I know, I know it's crazy." Clarissa laughed, taking his hand in hers.

"But . . . the body . . . and . . . and your room-"

"Aline Penhallow was the one murdered." Jace cut in. Hodge stared at him, first looking confused, and then his eyes narrowed into suspicion.

"What was she doing in Clarissa's room then?"

This caught Jace by surprise. He hadn't thought quite that far yet. "Er-"

"She was going to meet with me about the advertisement. I'd forgotten to put it on my schedule, so the whole thing flew over my head." Clarissa finished for him, sending Jace a pointed glare. Really, Clarissa was too good at this kind of thing.

"How unfortunate." Hodge said flatly, making motions to get out of bed.

"You don't have to-" Clarissa tried to stop Hodge from getting up, but ended the gesture when he glared at her.

"I'm not that fragile and old, Clarissa. A little bonk on the head isn't going to kill me."

She forced a smile to ease Hodge's annoyance. "I'm sorry, it just feels like I haven't seen you in forever."

"I thought _I'd_ never see you again." Hodge stated quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Would I make it better if I were to say it'll never happen again?" She tilted her head, smiling genuinely at him.

"No." Hodge said shortly, but not without humor. "You'll have to make it up for me later, somehow."

At this point, Jace was inching his way to the door, feeling very uncomfortable. He'd forgotten how close Hodge and Clarissa were. Assuming Hodge's stories were usually perceived in the light that Clarissa was in love with Hodge as well (she just didn't realize it), Jace had dismissed their relationship as awkward on her side and unrequited on Hodge's side. Only now, Jace began to realize he was not even close to the truth. Closing the door halfway, Jace left to brood on the couch, rethinking the one thing that hadn't left his mind in a week.

Clarissa.

She was stringing Hodge along unknowingly, in a sexual relationship with Sebastian and was following through with a marriage she didn't want, all the while dealing with Jace, an unknown stranger who'd been hounding her for the past 12 hours, not to mention that everyone else in her life believed her to be dead, so she'd have to somehow contact each person and break the news that no, she wasn't murdered and yes, she was still alive. And he couldn't forget that there was _still_ a murderer out there, about to find out any moment that they had failed and could come back and finish the job.

And all of the sudden Jace felt selfish. Selfish for feeling jealous and possessive, for yelling at Clarissa earlier, guilty for thinking that he _loved_ her even. Who was _he_, a man who had just barely met her in the flesh, think he deserved her above anyone else? He'd come to realize: he knew _nothing_ about Clarissa. Everything he'd learned or been told had him perceiving her in an incorrect light. And he _was_ wrong. So very wrong about _everything_ regarding her.

Jace wasn't in love with Clarissa; he was in love with the _idea_ of her. He'd created a figment of a perfect girl with a pretty face, and was upset when the real thing wasn't at all what he expected. The only thing that connected the two _was_ her face.

Jace glanced up to look at the portrait. He looked at her smile, and Jace only saw a straight line, the face staring blankly at him. Jace wanted to shake his fist at the painting, curse at her for connecting herself to him, if only by her physical looks.

Hodge and Clarissa entered then, in the midst of Jace's musings.

"Detective?" Clarissa began, smiling brilliantly, "I wanted to ask you something."

Hodge didn't look too happy by her elbow, but Jace ignored him, sitting on the edge of seat-figuratively.

"Yes?"

He must've sounded too eager, because Hodge rolled his eyes, and that was when he remembered last night when Hodge had visited him.

_"Careful, Herondale." Hodge glared, "Or they might send you to a psychiatric ward." Hodge swept past him. "I don't think they've ever heard of someone falling in love with a corpse."_

At least Jace knew that Hodge was in love with Clarissa as well. The old man couldn't hold it over his head. But Hodge certainly succeeded in making Jace feel as uncomfortable as possible.

"We were discussing in my room how I'm going to tell everyone I'm . . . you know . . . _not dead_, and I think the easiest way to do that is to throw a party."

Jace blinked. "A what?"

"You know, a party. A large social gathering which usually entails a lot of music and a lot of wine . . ." Clarissa was grinning, and she looked excited. Since she'd been back, Jace couldn't remember a thing she actually wanted to do, so looking at her, her green eyes sparkling, Jace found himself saying that yes, it's a brilliant idea.

Clarissa nodded, practically bursting with enthusiasm. And while she began rapidly throwing around ideas, Jace found himself doing the total head count at the party. Too many people for just his small team.

_What the hell did he just sign up for? _

**Ah, it's going to be alright Jace. I absolutely promise you. And the party won't be a downer for you and Clarissa. At all . . .**

**And I'm sure you readers are going to enjoy the chapters coming up. I haven't decided if there are one or two chapters before the party. And then I think the party will be about two chapters as well. And then some crazy stuff happens. It'll be great guys. So I'd say, in about 5 chapters give or take, Jace will make his first arret of the case! Who do you think it'll be?! **

**Please review, they are much enjoyed and wonderful motivators!**

**-Lau**


	23. The Situation of Shopping

**Heya! I'm going to make this short, since the thing at the end is pretty long. Anyway, this is the pre-party chapter in which Jace and Clarissa go shopping! WOOT WOOT! read and enjoy!**

**Miss Rando: yes, there will be Clace! There'll be plenty of Clace, I think. I'm just sorry that it's taken this long!**

**cfire: I think for once I'm proud at how soon I updated! **

**Review please!**

**-Lau**

"So what? Are you my personal bodyguard now? " Clarissa questioned teasingly, keeping her head bowed to strangers, a smirk curling her lips upwards.

Jace quickened his pace to keep up with her. "Not exactly."

"Then what's the difference?" she risked a quick glance up at him.

"Well, for one thing, I would be paid more than a cop."

"And that's a large factor, I assume?" she laughed.

"Very large one, yes." Jace chuckled.

"Then why are you a cop and not a bodyguard?" She pressed curiously, poking his arm before bowing her head once again.

Jace sighed inwardly. He could give her the brief explanation, or the real reason. He glanced at the streets around him, his eyes surveying anyone who might look too long at her. "For one thing, a bodyguard has to babysit rich kids, and all his rich kid friends while a cop does good for everyone. Or we at least try to. Bodyguards don't inflict justice; the police do. To me, being a cop just seems right thing to be."

"You sound like a classic hero." she murmured, inspecting him again with one of her long, excruciatingly torturing but wonderful at the same time stares. "What led you to this opinion?"

There was one question he couldn't answer. It was one he'd hoped she wouldn't ask. But all the same, there it was. "Uh . . . What store are we going to first?" Jace directed the question away the best he could, but the questioning glance from Clarissa told him that it wasn't that impressive and that she'd noticed.

Luckily she didn't push or ask anything else, but replied easily, "Just the grocery store today. Most of the food I have has gone bad. You don't even want to see the milk you bought for me last week."

Jace laughed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, thanking Clarissa silently for not pressing the subject. The past week, Jace had been lucky enough to have the day shift to watch over Clarissa, which basically meant he helped her plan the party (Jace had no idea what he was doing) and keep her on task during her errands.

"It won't be that long, I promise," Clarissa continued, "It does help that I'll have . . ." she drifted off, mouth parting in shock and realization, staring past him.

Jace checked over his shoulder, grabbing her arms and pressing her against the wall. Of what Jace could see, no one was paying any particular interest in them. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She only shook her head, licking her lips, explaining dazedly, "I only just realized . . . Dorothea doesn't know. I haven't been able to tell her yet."

Jace relaxed, easing his grip on her arms when he realized he'd touched her without a second thought. "I'll make sure she'll be there in the morning." Jace reassured her, remembering his first and last encounter with the old bat.

_The two men looked up to stare at Dorothea for the answer. Like a deer in headlights, she mumbled something inaudible, less teary eyed and shaky._

"_Sorry?" Jace took a step closer to her, when her arm shot out to grab his in a surprisingly tight grip._

_Jace naturally recoiled, nearly jumping out of his skin._

"_Miss Fairchild is not dead!" she shook his arm again, a crazy look in her eye. "She isn't dead."_

_This woman lost her bonkers a while ago, apparently. "Woman, get off me!" Jace shook her, prying her fingernails from his arm. "Clarissa's body was found-"_

"_You're wrong! Her spirit hasn't passed over yet!" she shouted . . ._

"She said you weren't dead you know." Jace added, once they'd begun to walk again.

"Really?" her light eyebrows rose. "What did she say?"

"Just something about your spirit not passing through, or some nonsense like that."

"Sounds like it wasn't _complete_ nonsense." Clarissa countered. "She's known for her predictions. It just so happens that she was miraculously right about _something_ this time."

"So she's done this before?" Jace smiled.

"One time," her voice lowered, like she was telling a secret, "she told me that my 'greatest danger' was inside time. How _ridiculous_ is that? And another time she told me I'd fall in love with the wrong person . . ." she faltered slowly, and Jace felt the lighter and easier conversation weigh heavy. "Maybe she was right about that too." she finished sullenly, looking past Jace and down the street.

Jace swallowed, wanting to say _something_, but not entirely sure _what_ to say. "She doesn't have to be. You can still find love somewhere else. You don't have to stay with - "

"With Sebastian?" she snapped suddenly, abruptly stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "Yes, I know that. You've only reminded me so many times! Don't think that your words go in one ear and out the other. I'm not flighty or a ditz, and I _do _understand what you're saying."

"I only-" Jace tried to begin, taken aback by her sudden anger and accusations.

"I don't know why you care so much, but I'm tired of you bringing up the topic whenever you get the chance." She continued, glaring holes into his face.

"_I'm_ the one bringing it up? _You're_ the one crying for pity all the time!" Jace countered passionately.

"_Excuse_ _me_? I do _not _ask for anyone's pity!" She retorted.

"Then how do you explain the whole 'I fell in love with the wrong person' thing back there? Are you saying it _wasn't _for my pity?"

"No, it was . . ." Clarissa frowned, pushing her hair back behind her ear. Jace gave her a look, shrugging his shoulders. He wasn't entirely sure why she'd say it either, beyond pity.

"Look, I don't have to explain myself to you." She snapped finally, blinking rapidly while her eyes grew bloodshot. Her face growing redder by the minute, Clarissa continued her angry rant. "And it isn't my fault you have such a boring life that you have to pry into other people's personal business!"

Jace's eyebrows shot up. "_I see._" He blinked away that he was offended, and fought back a cynical smile. She was upset at him for being right, and so she did the easiest thing that would be the most emotionally compensating: lashing out in anger. "I don't think you really mean that." He countered calmly.

"Actually, I really do!" She snarled, storming away down the sidewalk.

Jace chin jutted into his neck, hands up in defense. In his experience with women, he'd found it best not to get angry back at them. They usually had some ulterior reason if they were being irregularly irrational.

"Wait!" Jace sped walked to her already stopped figure. "I'm not sure what just happened back there, but-"

Clarissa turned, eyes bloodshot and watery. She was . . . Crying? Already? "Please don't bring him up again . . . To me. Please?" She repeated pathetically, her voice trembling.

"Ugh . . ." The transformation from fiery and cold to teary-eyed and ashamed couldn't have been more drastic. "Sure?"

She laughed bitterly, leaning her head against the brick wall behind her while she blinked away the tears. "Looks like I've scared you too." she said miserably. Jace looked away, hands on hips, to give her more time to regain her composure, and maybe a few shreds of pride.

She grabbed his wrist and turned him to face her. "Sorry . . . I'm just not sure how to do anything anymore." She said when she was ready.

Jace searched her face, and found that he'd never wanted touch her, or hug her, or do _something_, more than he did now. She had yelled at him, yes, but not only was it _slightly_ stimulating, she had also apologized immediately after. And now she stood in front of him, vulnerable and small. "You certainly remember how to offend others, though." Jace smiled weakly.

She let go of his wrist, which tingled from her contact still, and shook her head exasperatedly. "And you always remember how easy it is to aggravate and question me." But she was smirking now, beginning to walk again.

Jace followed her, pleased that he at least was able to pick up her mood.

He knew he was crossing another line once silence settled in between them, but he found him unable to stop himself asking the question.. "Is something happening between you and . . ." He stopped when she sent a death glare.

"Everything is perfectly fine, thank you very much." She snapped, before he could say anything else.

"You really don't expect me to believe that, do you? After you so shamelessly attacked me, I'm expected to believe that this is just pent up hatred towards me, individually?"

"Given that I don't like you very much, I'd say yes to that. Believe it." She scowled, folding her arms across her chest.

Jace bit the inside of his tongue. Ouch. "I'm going to choose not to, because I know you're fond of me." Jace beamed, really wishing this was true.

Clarissa rolled her eyes. "If you think I'm fond of you accusing me that I'm a murderer, and your constant reminder that my first serious relationship is going down the toilet, then you're wrong. I'm not."

Jace blinked. He'd almost forgotten about his first accusation. He hadn't entirely dismissed it, but over the past week, Clarissa had somehow been able to convince him that she wasn't completely bad, and there wasn't a near possible chance for her to hurt someone.

"What are you going to do next on this trip, then?" Clarissa glared up at him, hands shoved deep in her coat pockets. "Question my motives for choosing mangoes as an entree?"

"Well, I wouldn't judge, considering mangoes are fantastic."

She ignored him, continuing like he hadn't interrupted. "Or maybe what past experience in my life brought me to choose chocolate over vanilla-"

"Well, given _my_ past experience with a woman's relationship with chocolate, I don't think I need to question it."

Clarissa stared at him, mouth parted, and Jace couldn't tell if she was holding back laughter, or another example of food to express her anger. Jace raised an eyebrow at her, shrugging his shoulders once. Instead of either, she shook her head and snorted.

"You're unbelievable."

"Many women have acclaimed to that fact, after they see _exactly _what I can do." Jace looked knowingly at her. Now that she wasn't completely angry at him, Jace would ease into the conversation. He'd found this technique to be quite effective, especially since she was constantly on and off all the time. Angry at one point, and then flirty or sweet another time. If she was infuriated with him, Jace would wait, say something, usually an innuendo, or a sassy remark, she'd grudgingly smile, and then after a minute or so of silence Clarissa would spark up another conversation. It was easy, once Jace had gotten it down.

She narrowed her eyes, a small grin twitching her lips upward. "Were they talking about you in a positive or negative connotation?"

"I've always received positive feedback. I don't think anyone's complained about me, or stopped coming back for more afterwards." He winked at her, which she just rolled her eyes at.

"Isn't that inappropriate to say when on the job?"

Jace frowned, innocent eyes wide. "Job? What job? I thought we were friends out for-"

"I've barely known you for a week, what in the world makes you think we're friends?" her brow furrowed together, as she glanced at him.

"Well, I've known you for _three _weeks, so I think that's more of a basis of friendship, if you ask me."

Clarissa was momentarily taken aback. She licked her lips as her eyes searched the sidewalk in front of her for something. And then came a question that was probably the worst possible to answer. "What did you think of me _before _. . . you know . . . you found out I was actually alive?"

Jace closed his eyes, biting his lip. To tell the truth or to not tell the truth? To pronounce that he was the oddest and most insane man noninstitutionalized or not? "I actually find you just as dull, if not even more so in the flesh."

"Will you please shut up?" Clarissa snapped, but Jace could tell she was hiding a smile. She composed herself once more, glaring at him while he opened the grocery store doors.

Jace stayed silent as asked, but couldn't stop the slow smile growing across his face, nor could he deny seeing the blush spreading down from her cheeks to her neck.

* * *

Jace had long ago pulled out his book from his coat pocket now that they had been in the store for over two hours. He'd stopped complaining as well, choosing to read instead of slowly grow insane from staring at produce and dairy too long.

"Which one do you think I should go with? Cracker sandwiches or soup?"

"Soup, definitely." Jace responded immediately, without looking up.

"Okay, which one should I choose then?"

Jace sighed and glanced away from his page. He stared at the two choices; one a box mix, and the other in a can. "You want to serve your guests from a box? Why can't you have it homemade?"

"Because I don't want too much work."

"If you're not opposed to canned food, why not just go with tomato soup, then?"

Clarissa closed her eyes, face screwing up. "_Tomato_ _soup_? Did you really just say tomato soup?"

"Yeah, why not?" Jace started, picking up the red can of the shelf. "I mean, all you have to do is heat it over a saucepan, add some water and voila! It's ready. Or you can eat it straight out of a can if you're running late . . ."

Clarissa grimaced in disgust. "That's disgusting."

"_No_, it is _not_. I bet you haven't even tried it."

"No, I luckily haven't had the chance to." Clarissa's lip curled, taking the red can from Jace and setting it back down on the rack. "it looks too much like blood, and I never intend on eating it now." she cringed, her nose scrunching at him. "Did your parents teach you to eat it that way?"

Jace cleared his throat at yet another question he couldn't answer that day. "No, they did not."

"Oh . . .Well, I guess I'll just go with cracker sandwiches, then." She pushed the groceries, grunting with effort at first to push the heavy laden cart to the meats area of the store. Jace sighed and followed her, holding the book in front of him and began to read once more.

"I swear, I'll be done in less than ten minutes." Clarissa informed him, bending over to look at all the ground beef, salami, ham, turkey, and the rest of the "protein" that was undefinable to one species.

"Then why can't I just go and sit down?" Jace complained, his feet once again reminding him how sore they were from not sitting down for two and half hours.

"One, you're supposed to be making sure I'm not shot in the middle of this grocery store, and most importantly . . . I need your opinion."

"I hope someone shoots _me_." Jace muttered, placing his book back in his trench coat.

"What did you say?" Clarissa inspected the choices, biting her lip.

"I was just saying my opinion probably isn't right." Jace looked at her back sheepishly.

"That's impossible." Clarissa murmured, squinting at a sliced honey-glazed ham. "No opinion is wrong."

"Well, my opinion won't be what you want to hear." Jace tried again, but to no avail. Apparently she did want him there.

"Okay, well what's your opinion of this ham?" she grinned, holding it up next to her face.

"It's terrible." Jace replied immediately.

Her eyebrows rose. "Really? Well then . . . How about this one?"

"Turkey?" Jace made a face at her. "Definitely no."

She laughed at him, and began spouting various meats at him, each time Jace criticizing it.

"Steak?"

"Really, Clarissa. Do you have any taste at all?"

"Apparently not." Clarissa was turning red and shaking just a little, as she pushed a stray strand of hair back into her bun. "How about bacon?"

Jace snorted. "Who actually likes bacon?"

"Salami?"

"Do you know what's _in_ that?"

"How about sausage?"

"Too fatty. One package of this will ruin your perfect figure."

Clarissa hadn't stopped laughing and Jace relished in the pretty sound. It wasn't a perfect laugh, a few snorts interrupting the midst of her fit when she started lifting some of the non-sophisticated foods from the freezer. "Chicken Nuggets?"

Jace just shook his head. "I'm not even going to comment."

Clarissa dropped it back into the now-messy freezer. "I think I covered every meat here." She drew a deep breath in, trying to talk without giggling. "So what should I get, since you're _apparently _vegetarian?"

"It isn't obvious what I want?" Jace smirked, leaning against the freezer.

"Since you put down all of my options, no, I don't think it is." She matched his position, a small smile playing against her lips as she leaned forward. "What do _you _want?"

If only he could answer that honestly. In a world where he told the truth, Jace would've said he wanted to ravish her right there, against the freezer door, and make her forget any other man's name but his. But in this world, Jace didn't tell the truth. So he didn't say that. Instead . . .

"Tomato Soup."

Clarissa's face screwed up for a moment, and then with a painful expression upon her face, she clutched her stomach, covering her mouth with her hand as she laughed almost violently. Her eyes shined with tears from her fit of laughter, and she clutched his shoulder for support, because she wasn't steady on her feet.

Jace was laughing too. Only, he was laughing _at_ her. Clarissa's face was probably _redder _than tomato soup, and she was buckling down against him, and there probably wasn't anything more adorable than her at this moment.

"Hooooo." She breathed, wiping at her eyes for any stray tears. "Sorry, that was really embarrassing." She wheezed, face still beet red.

"Why are you apologizing?" Jace smiled, recovering as well. "Everyone deserves a laugh."

"Because . . ." she swallowed, deliberately removing her hand away from his shoulder and regaining a little more calm and cool attitude, "I guess I don't think that I deserve to be happy, sometimes."

Jace frowned. "That's ridiculous – "

"No it isn't." Clarissa stopped him, all the joking manner previously disappearing. Her green eyes tightened, the wrinkles around them crinkling, like she was trying to smile, but couldn't force her lips to move with it. "You don't understand that . . ." she puffed a short, angry breath, the short hairs flying around her forehead. "I'm just as bad as him. I'm just as bad as Sebastian."

"What do you mean?" Jace stared at her, holding onto her shoulders so she couldn't walk away from him.

"Nevermind." Clarissa straightened up, her face suddenly expressionless and void of any emotion at all. "I'm just a stupid woman. I don't know what I'm talking about." She explained it dully, taking his hands and moving them off her shoulders.

"Let's go, then." Jace frowned, gesturing them to move forward as she grabbed the ham she'd been thinking over before.

"Okay." she let Jace push the heavy cart to the check out, remaining silent the entire time it took them to get a cab, and load all the groceries into the trunk.

* * *

"You know, you're extremely dull company when you don't speak." Jace tried, halfway to the hotel now. She glanced distractedly at him, her hands clasped tightly on her lap.

"Sorry . . . I'm just . . ." Clarissa inhaled sharply, averting her eyes from him and keeping them trained out the window. " . . . thinking."

Unfortunate you." Jace fake sighed, eying her worriedly, "You are _still _dull, even when you do finally speak."

Clarissa finally looked at him, narrowing her eyes. "I didn't know that you relied so heavily upon me for entertainment."

"Well, figuring that I have to spend the entire day with you, everyday, then yes. I do rely on you for _some _things."

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm not in the mood for talking right now." Clarissa didn't look at him again, choosing to stare at the streets rolling past out the window.

Jace's eyebrows rose, shrugging his shoulders. There was obviously nothing he could do at this point to cheer her mood. Lately, she would become gloomier and gloomier as the day went on, to the point of hostility in the late evening. Luckily by then, Jace would drop his shift, Jonathan would take over, and he would get a night's rest before seeing her all over again.

* * *

"Have these groceries taken to the crime scene." Jace told the bellboy, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Clarissa had stayed in the car as asked.

The older boy eyed him oddly, but listened to directions without question. Once he'd started up the stairs with the first trip, Jace beckoned Clarissa to come inside. She walked swiftly into the lobby, wearing a large floppy hat and sunglasses to hide her identity. "Let's go." Jace muttered, taking hold of her hand and pulling her into the lobby.

She kept her head down low as Jace flashed his badge and talked to the entry desk. Luckily the man didn't recognized Clarissa, and believed Jace's story that she was a suspect needed upstairs at the crime scene.

Jace's heart stopped racing so fast once the elevator doors closed. Clarissa sighed and took off her disguise apparel. "You know that soon they'll start to realize I'm the same person from yesterday, accompanying her husband for a day of work, and the one from the day before that was a counselor to one of the distraught officers."

"It'll be lucky then, that you're party is very soon. Then we won't have to worry about all this secrecy anymore. I promise."

"If only I'd planned it sooner." Clarissa muttered under her breath, wringing her hands together and sighing.

Jace said nothing as the elevator doors opened, the hall luckily empty before them. Jace beckoned her to follow him, stopping her before the corner while he peeked around.

Clear.

Walking quickly to her hotel suite, Jace only stopped Clarissa once more for when the bellboy ran downstairs for the next grocery bag. Once in the room itself,Jace took off his hat and flung it on the table, while Clarissa headed immediately to her room. Jace rolled his eyes at her childish behavior. He knew that Clarissa probably wasn't angry at _him_, but was actually upset at herself.

There was nothing else he could do, especially since she wasn't going to tell him the source to her misery and gloominess any time soon. So he called up Jonathan to pick up his own shift and report to Chief Morgenstern of the entire week's happenings, along with leads to the case.

* * *

"So you basically haven't done a thing this week." Chief narrowed his eyes over the desk at Jace.

"No," he replied carefully, "I've been calculating Clarissa's relationship with everyone. I'll be getting so much close to the killer; if I have the case until this Wednesday, I think I'll be able to make an arrest. With real evidence."

"And I assume you mean you want me to wait until after this party she's throwing?"

"Yes." Jace nodded.

Chief stood up, tugging at the lapels of his coat. "Jace . . . You know our relationship together."

"Yes." Jace swallowed thickly. He couldn't remember when Morgenstern wasn't in his life.

"Then you are also aware that others know as well."

Jace nodded once again.

"The other boys think that your new promotion is due to favoritism, especially since you've made Jonathon your partner."

"Chief, you said you promoted me because I deserved it-"

"And you do." Chief cut in, putting a reassuring hand on Jace's shoulder. "Trust me in what I say; you deserve to be the head detective. I'm only warning you that if you screw up this case, that if you don't have it closed and the killer on trial, by this time next week, I'm not going to promise you the same position. I know this is only your second case as detective, but if you get distracted by anything . . . I might as well replace you."

Jace stared at him in shock. Here Chief was, practically Jace's own _father_, and he was telling him that he'd fire Jace if he messed up? "And what's brought this out? You've never had any complaints about me before."

"No," he agreed, "But others do. I'm receiving anonymous tips from someone about how you do your job."

Jace jumped to his feet. "I have not been violating any code, sir, and anyone who says otherwise is lying."

Morgenstern stopped Jace from continuing with holding out his hand. "I completely believe you, but the tipper also notified my superiors, and they want me to put my foot down. Your deal is that if you don't close this case, you're fired. Simple as that."

His jaw dropped. "What were the complaints?!"

Chief sighed, shaking his head. "I'm certain that none of them are true, but there isn't anything I can do about it."

"_What did it say_?" Jace ground his teeth together.

"Sexual harassment, stalking, prying into other's private history, unnecessary beating . . . need I go on?"

"None of that is true!" Jace shouted, raking his hand through his hair. "I'm going to kill someone. I swear! Whoever sent this is going to-"

"Jace! Shut up!"Morgenstern scowled at him. "I already told you I don't believe a wink of it. I already informed the Captain that I _raised _you, that you have outstanding morals and couldn't have done anything of the sort."

Jace breathed for a moment, too angry to think straight. "I don't believe this." Jace muttered, pushing his messy hair out of his eyes. "Chief, that's not enough time. I _need _more time."

"You've had the case for an entire month next Friday. You've never taken longer."

"I know . . ." Jace closed his eyes. "It's just . . . this one is really, really, _really _complicated."

"Are you sure it's not just because of a pretty girl?" he offered gently.

Jace stared at Chief. Did he really just say that? "Excuse me?"

"I'm only saying that this is your first case with a pretty, young woman in it - "

"Yeah, and this is also my first case in which the _dead _victim is not actually dead, but _alive _and well!" Jace retorted, glaring at his mentor. "I'm not distracted by anything."

Chief stared at Jace for a long moment, before nodding his approval. "Alright. Get to work then."

Jace inhaled sharply, leaving the department building. Jace placed his hat on his head, frowning at the street while he tried to catch a taxi. As if Jace needed anything more to deal with: a difficult case, with even more challenging suspects, a girl he was positively sure he was in love with came back from the dead, and now he had to try to hide his feelings since she didn't know the first thing about him. He also had to plan a party holding every single person who'd have a motive to kill Clarissa, along with no murder weapon, not to mention now, a lying tipper, and the end of his career as he knew it if he didn't close the hardest case of his life in a week.

Was he stressed out?

Yes.

Was he positive of the murderer?

Yes.

Yes he was.

**WHAT Jace knows who it is what the heck where did that come from how long has he known what on earth is happening I don't know but yes actually I do know so don't worry I'm taking this exactly where i want it to go. **

**Sorry, I decided to merge a bunch of sentences together. Sorry to anyone bothered. Anyways, how'd ya like it? I really loved this chapter! I started before I posted last chapter, but then most of it was deleted due to my lack of intelligence, and I'm actually happy I'm stupid sometimes because I liked how this went better. In the scene where Jace and Clarissa were walking, she got super angry at him, and I can't even remember why at this point. She basically threatened to replace him and I didn't like that, so the computer decided to delete it for me.**

**Anyways! How did you like Jace and Clarissa in the chapter? It was mainly about them. A few chapters ago someone was worried that Clarissa wasn't ever going to like Jace, but don't you worry; now that they have this kind of banter between them, it'll be a lot easier to connect and get to know each other. Next chapter is the party chapter! YAYYY I'm so so so soooo excited guys you don't even know!**

**Anyway, reviews would be much appreciated! I'm thinking that after the two party chapters, I'll offer a snippet to the next chapter. Because there's this big thing that happens at the end of the party! Anyone interested? **


	24. The Situation of a Party PART 1

**I need to stop making this a habit. Updates are taking longer, and I'm sorry for that, truly. Bu my school year is finally coming to a close, so I think things after May should cool down. It didn't help that I didn't have nearly enough inspiration to write this chapter the way I wanted to. **

**And I'm sure getting caught up in a fanfiction for Harry Potter that's more than 600,000 words isn't a good idea, either. **

**I don't particularly like how this chapter went; truthfully I'm just glad it's over. I don't think I was able to establish a party setting very well, and it feels more like an excuse for me to get anyone I want to talk to each other. **

**But the last two chapters have been longer than usual! That's a plus.**

**cfire27, Guest 3, and Jj: thank you and I'm sorry to disappoint in a quick update.**

**Guest 1: It's taken a while to write it; glad to ahve you on board for the last five chapters or so.**

**Guest 2: I can't say much to your theorizing, but do think you'll like what Clary decides in this chapter. ;D**

** clace4ever: Don't worry, I'm not abandoning this fic. I'm just a procrastinating writer with writer's block issues who doesn't like to face her problems a lot of the time.  
**

**-Lau**

"I was so shocked to hear your voice on the end of the line," said Charlotte Branwell, a distant cousin of Clary's mother.

"I'm sure you can imagine my shock when I heard the news as well," Clary laughed, the others surrounding her in the group chuckling with her.

"We're all very happy that you are safe and healthy."

"It's just unfortunate that someone really _was _killed." added a new voice at Clary's elbow. She turned, and Clary wasn't sure if she was happy to see her friend, or angry. After all that the Detective Jonathan had told her about Sebastian's going ons while she had been gone, Clary wasn't pleased to see the curled blonde hair, and the sparkling blue eyes that belonged to Kaelie Whitewillow.

Clary forced a strained smile anyways, only her eyes betraying her by showing resentment. "Kaelie . . . I must've forgotten your invitation. How silly of me."

Kaelie waved it off, lips curling upwards as well. "It's fine. After what you've had to endure, I can only _imagine _how stressed out you are right now. With a killer on the loose . . ." Kaelie clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "You are forgiven, dear. Luckily _Sebastian _remembered to invite me, so there's no harm done.

Clary flinched at his name, feeling like someone was stabbing her in the gut. "How nice of him." Clary unsuccessfully hid the menace in her voice. "He is always thinking of what is best for others."

Clary bit her tongue to say anything further. Even though the clueless crowd around her had no idea of knowing, the two girls knew that Clary was being sarcastic. Her eyes fled around the room for the slimy man, but instead caught and focused on Detective Herondale a little longer in the back of the room. He looked different, but it wasn't to shocking. He wasn't in his usual working trousers, but wore a black, tailored suit with his hair slicked back like how most of the college men wore it nowadays. There was nothing really that gave away that he was a cop. But as Clary watched him, she noticed his wineglass still completely full, his eyes flickering around the room like he was drinking it all in. He reminded her of a lion surveying a waterhole from afar.

And then suddenly his eyes were meeting her gaze, a questioning look on his face, as an eyebrow slowly rose. Clary felt her stomach flip pleasantly and her face heat up into a . . . a blush? She awkwardly averted her gaze and tried to keep down a small, bashful smile. Staring into the blood red color of her wine was definitely better than staring into gold. It was the alcohol that was making her feel a bit dizzy.

Definitely the alcohol.

Conversation around continued without her noticing, the voices muffling out of coherency and was replaced by an annoying buzz. Clary could definitely feel how hot her cheeks were now, as she saw in the corner of her eye Detective Jonathan smirk into his glass, take a sip, and walk off into another room. Clary tipped the rest of the liquid into her mouth and blamed the breathless feeling in her chest on the alcohol.

Most _definitely _the alcohol.

She soon excused herself from the crowd for another glass, more than happy to escape the suffocating crowd. Clary greeted some of the guests on her way to the kitchen and dining room, relieved to close the door to all the noise and people. Dorothea was in the kitchen cleaning off a pan, breaking off the song she'd been humming previously when Clary greeted her.

"Everything alright, ma'am?"

"Yes," Clary sighed, throwing herself into a chair at her small, little table. "I'm just tired and I want everyone to leave."

"You're not enjoying yourself?" Dorothea frowned, rubbing Clary's shoulder with concern. Her large hand left a wet hand print on Clary's blue dress with the soapy water, but she didn't care. It was nice to know that someone genuinely cared for her, and didn't go around stabbing her in the back the moment she was out of the picture. It seemed that Dorothea was the only one who had missed her while she was gone. Clary got up to refill her glass, the small buzz she was feeling still not overcoming the _anxiety_ and _anger _she'd been feeling for _days _now.

Clary had barely sipped from her glass when the door swung open, entering in one of the last people she wanted to see: Kaelie. Her friend pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her small purse, gingerly taking one out and offering one to Clary. She stared at it warily, wondering if Kaelie had poisoned the tip. "No, I'm good right now, thank you."

Kaelie shrugged, putting the end into her mouth and light the tip. "Suit yourself."

Clary found herself craving one now as the smoke wafted around the room. She'd stopped the habit a while ago, only addicted to them when Clary had lived with Kaelie for a time. Clary sighed - her alone time was up already. She needed to immerse herself into the crowd before she tried to strangle Kaelie. Clary was getting up and just about to leave when Kaelie stopped her. "Are you avoiding me? I can't help but notice . . ." Kaelie held tighter to Clary's wrist, brows furrowed. "Are you angry with me? Is that why you didn't invite me?"

Clary couldn't stop the snort. "Are you _seriously _asking me that? _Why on earth do you even care?_" she shook her wrist from her grasp, glaring at her old friend.

"What are you talking about?" Kaelie asked, bewildered, and let Clary go, lips parted.

"I'm talking about you and _Sebastian_. What words did he use to convince you to be with him?"

"I'm not . . . I don't think-"

"Please just go and take Sebastian with you; I wouldn't want to stop you from your heart's desires."

"We're not like that, Clarissa, it's complicated!" Kaelie stumbled frantically. "I'm not . . . I'm not trying to hide anything from you; let me tell you what you missed!"

"Are you sure Sebastian would approve? I know how much he likes to keep his secrets." Kaelie looked close to tears now and pulled Clary frantically back to her, eyes glistening.

"Sebastian said that he loved me." she blurted, biting her lips worriedly as she checked her friend. "It was the week while you were . . . well . . . _gone_, and I didn't really know what to do about it."

"I have a feeling that you handled your grief just fine, if there was any." Clary sneered, folding her arms and turning her back on her friend. "I'm sure the moment I was gone you ran happily in his arms without a second thought of _me _or _my_ feelings!"

Kaelie laughed bitterly, with a hint of exasperation and anger. "You're making this about you, now?"

"What does that mean?" Clary shouted, turning on her friend, pointing to herself. "_This is all about_ me!"

"Clarissa, you're so damn selfish! What do you really think happened when you were gone and everyone thought you were dead? Did you think that some celebratory party happened because 'thank goodness that annoying girl is out of our lives we all hated her anyways?' No, despite what your deluded brain _might_ think, everyone mourned; even me, your cold and calculating best friend who's been wanting to sleep with your fiance. Because I'm sure that's what you think of me right now." Kaelie glared at Clarissa, anger flaring her pretty blue eyes bright and livid.

"You might've been going through a bad break up, but _I_ was trying to get over the _death_ of a _best _friend. _I_ was crying my eyes out. _I _was distraught. I could hardly stop myself from killing that detective when he started accusing me of killing _you _out of jealousy. The only time I spent with Sebastian of him offering me solace and comfort was the day after. He was the only person I knew who loved you as much as I did. So when he called to come over, I thought, 'Might as well be with someone who's as devastated as I am.' Who did you expect me to go to? _Hodge?_ _Please_.

"And that was when he said that he was still in love with me . . . I was shocked, and I wasn't sure what to say. I'm _still _not sure what to make of it. But Sebastian just moved on to a different topic as if it had never happened, and we just . . . I don't know, we never brought it up again. _Haven't_, actually. So nothing's been going on between us, just in case you misjudged me. How terrible do you think we are to do something like _that _days after _we all believed you were dead_? Seriously. Who do _you think I am_?"

"I . . ." Clary was stumped. And she also felt even more horrible about herself. She wanted to explain to Kaelie the horrid truth, but wasn't sure how to put it; Clary was still blinking and trying to process everything of what her friend had told her. Clary _had _been rude and judged her. Especially when she had no right to be looking down on Kaelie after all the terrible decisions _Clary'd _made. One of which was named Sebastian Verlac. And she wasn't ready to let her friend make the same stupid decision. "Kaelie . . ." Clary started gently, " did Sebastian even tell you that he _knew_?"

"About what?" Kaelie frowned, the angry flush in her cheeks cooling down from a deep red to a flustered pink.

Clary rolled her eyes. _Of course_ Sebastian would leave out that important piece of information. "I . . . I don't want him to get you confused about your feelings-"

"He hasn't-"

"Let me finish. I've let you talk, now hear _me _out." Clary licked her lips nervously, taking hold of her best friend's hands and holding onto them tightly. "Sebastian doesn't belong to me, and he doesn't belong to you." Kaelie frowned and looked about to say something, but Clary plowed along, interrupting her again.

"Sebastian belongs to _himself_. He's too selfish to care about anyone or anything else but himself. And he's too selfish to allow another person in a relationship. It's why he ran away from _you_, and why he was unfaithful to _me_. The only person Sebastian loves is himself." Clary finished, feeling almost immediately a weight being lifted off her shoulders. It was the truth, and it was freedom. She hadn't realized it until the words had come tumbling out of her mouth, but she had known for a while. It was just the matter of getting past the denial and the lies she had ignored and waved off. Clary already felt lighter-being able to acknowledge and admit the horrid truth-was freeing and enlightening. She felt like a new person.

"But he . . . he feels different than when I last saw him. I thought he had . . ."

"Changed?" Clary offered gently and shook her head. "If he had changed, then he probably would've told that I wasn't actually dead."

"He would've . . ._what_?" Kaelie blinked.

"Sebastian knows . . . _knew _. . . that I'd be back. He knew the entire time."

Her friend's mouth dropped, her eyes impossibly wide. "How did he know?"

Clary swallowed, her lips thin as she looked at Kaelie sympathetically. "He was with Aline . . . _alone _. . . in the hotel room when she was shot."

"I -I don't understand. Are you saying that Sebastian shot her?" Kealie gasped, a hand covering her mouth.

"No . . . He was _with _her. He told me last week that they'd been seeing each other for over a month." During the last month before their union, he'd chosen to spend his time with someone else. Clary looked at her feet, trying not to sound bitter (unsuccessfully) while she waited for her friend's response. It was silent for a while, the only sound was the faint, smooth jazz from the party outside that door, and the heavy breathing of Kaelie in front of her. After relaying all the information onto Kaelie, Clary was again reminded of the anger and bitterness and the _hurt _Sebastian made her feel. But she felt no regret with her final decision. Maybe she felt just a little bit . . . relieved?

Clary didn't have to be with him.

Clary didn't need to be with him.

Clary didn't _want _to be with him.

_Freedom at last._

She was pulled into reality, quite literally however, when Kaelie nearly tackled Clary, holding on tightly. She sobbed quietly into her shoulder, "I'm so sorry!"

Clary hadn't been expecting this. The freeing realization that she was no longer tied down to that one, awful person was fantastic, and Clary had been ready to face the consequences of her (not really) jealous friend. After all, hadn't Sebastian first "loved" Kaelie? Hadn't Clary been breaking every girl code out there? And now she was saying that she didn't want him, but Kaelie couldn't have him either, even though he wasn't taken? Maybe if Kaelie had stormed out and shouted at Sebastian. Or cried to herself. Or shout at Clary. Or laugh at how utterly stupid Sebastian actually was. But sympathy for Clary? No, she hadn't expected it.

So Clary shut her gaping mouth and wrapped her arms around Kaelie in a tight hug. All that could be heard for a while were the monotonous clanking noises of the kitchen and the muffled sniffling of Kaelie against Clary's shoulder.

* * *

Jace had terrible timing with women.

It was just something he had trouble with. His mother, past dolls, not to mention the moment he'd decided to accept his feeling for Clarissa was the day she decided to come back . . .

Jace was even _more _aware of this statement, when he had gone looking for Clarissa. She'd disappeared after the odd eye contact between the two of them; Jace had enjoyed seeing her flustered more than he cared to admit. Kaelie ran off to the kitchen right after Clarissa's absence, where Jace could only assume they both were, talking. He probably wouldn't have noted it that much, but as ten minutes became twenty, and then twenty became half an hour, Jace grew worried. Didn't Clarissa, of all people, realize that leaving her party guests for a long time was considered rude?

So excuse Jace for walking into the kitchen. He was expecting a cat fight, or maybe a shouting match over the possession of Sebastian, maybe a dead body thrown in there somewhere, but instead, the scene was a bit more startling. Kaelie and Clarissa were embraced in a hug. Kaelie was facing Jace, her eyes streaming with tears, make up and plastered hair in the mix of the mess.

Crying made Jace nervous. And embarrassed. Having only Valentine and his partner in crime, Jonathan Morgenstern, in his childhood, Jace had been neglected feel for the emotional side. If Jace fell off his bike and received road burns up and down his face, Valentine would slap his back and tell him, "Suck it up and smile." (Sometimes the slap felt like Jace had almost coughed up a lung, so he learned to stop complaining quickly).

Obviously it would be rather offensive for Jace to pat Kaelie's shoulder and tell her to "suck it up," so Jace was stranded in an embarrassing position. His eyes widening at the scene, Jace closed the door as abruptly as he had entered. Jace silently swore to himself, hoping that the two friends had noticed the -

The door opened, Clarissa's head popping out. "Oh! Hello Detective!"

"Sorry if I interrupted, I just wanted to . . . ugh, make sure that -"

She smiled appreciatively at him and nodded. "Everything is fine in here. Kaelie and I were just having a nice long chat and . . . Well, I'll be returning shortly to the party." And just as quickly as she had entered, Clarissa closed the door.

Jace breathed a sigh of relief; luckily it hadn't been _too _awkward. Jace nodded to a few passer bys, resisting the urge to wink at a few of them. It was what Jace used to do a month ago at night clubs. Stringing along a few girls was a fun past-time, but now "stringing along" wasn't Jace's exact mission.

The door next to where he was leaning against opened, and Clarissa slipped outside, standing next to him. Their shoulders brushed, making Jace acutely aware of her every move. Jace licked his lips and tried to moisten his dry mouth as he thought of something to say to her before she was swept away into the party going on around them. "Is Kaelie alright?" he asked finally.

Clarissa shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think she'll be fine after a while."

She didn't say anything else on the subject, leaving Jace to wonder what topic was so distressful. Jace noticed the weariness in her gaze as she cast her faded green eyes around the room. Perhaps the topic was a sore subject as well. "Did I miss a hot cat fight?"

Clarissa laughed, looking up at him. Her eyes were a bit puffy and red as well, Jace noted. "I think it got close once or twice there." Clary admitted, the side of her mouth twitching upward acutely.

"Well next time, make sure I'm there when it starts to get heated."

She tilted her head at him, still laughing at him. "Why do I get the feeling that you'd just goad us on?"

Jace shrugged, turning his body towards the crowd once again because her smile and her alto voice and her pretty green eyes and short red hair looked much too real to hear and see and touch. It's like his senses were on overdrive, and Jace couldn't sort out what he wanted to focus on. They were scrambling together worse and worse when she shifted a lock of hair behind her ear, and when she gave him that vividly distinguishable, knowing smile, Jace felt his stomach flipping over and over nervously.

"It looks like you know me a little better now."

Clarissa shrugged, smirking, "Or you're just easy to read."

Jace felt the pit of his stomach churn pleasantly and licked his dry lips. "I really hope not."

"Why not?"

Exasperation was present in his sigh. But it really was the nervousness if he really _was _easy to read, and she knew about his feelings for her, and now she thought that he . . . Well, Jace wasn't exactly _sure _what she would think of him if she ever did find out. Since Hodge knew, Jace's secret could be shared at any moment to Clarissa.

It would be . . . weird.

Most likely it would be awkward.

So he made up an excuse. "If I were to be an open book, then my career would go down the toilet." (Not that his career was being threatened already.)

Clarissa tilted her head at him, her curly hair brushing over his hand. His fingers clenched involuntarily. "How so?"

"Well, if I didn't have a good poker face, then my suspects would be cautious. But if I remain unassuming," Jace turned his body again toward her, her presence too addictive to not be close to, and leaned lazily against the wall that she was so unceremoniously inclined on as well, "then the suspect might just let something . . . slip."

Clarissa narrowed her eyes at him, looking like she was working around something in her mouth. Her green eyes swept over him once, twice, before she started chewing on her lip, still scrutinizing him. Finally, she broke the intense silence. "Are you waiting for me to do that, too? Is that why you're hanging around me all the time? Trying to get me to be comfortable around you just so you can be there when I slip up?"

Jace cleared his throat, not sure how to answer the question. He was around her all the time for her safety, sure, but that was just a cover story. Jace imagined her face if he told the truth: that he was around her all the time because he _wanted_ to. Because he enjoyed being around _her_. "Not really. I've initially decided already that you aren't a murderess."

"Then are you there all the time for my protection? I thought the police department had a larger staff." she pressed on, determined.

Jace answered honestly. "Slipping up isn't what I want you to do.

"What, are you hoping to catch me in another nightgown?"

Jace sucked in a breath which he hoped wasn't _too _noticeable. "Only if you want me to see you in one." one side of his lips curled upwards slowly (which, according to a past fling with another doll, drove her crazy), and Clarissa giggled nervously. She shoved his arm playfully, pushing him just a little farther away from her.

"You would be one of the only ones to know, since I believe that was one of the first things you saw me in."

Jace's mind raced back to that morning, Clarissa flaunting her body (aka having hypnotic power over Jace's young, male mind), and Jace drooling after her.

He pulled himself back to the present, with the said hypnotically powerful Clarissa Fairchild. Jace shrugged, trying to wave off the coiling and twisting of his abdomen when he thought back to what she'd looked like. "Don't worry. It wasn't _too _memorable for me."

Clarissa's chin jutted to neck with her eyebrows raising.

Jace swore at himself.

_Idiot_.

That was offensive. The look on her face obviously showed that she _was_ offended. But what else was he supposed to say! _Clarissa, I think you looked more than fantastic in your lingerie that was meant for your fiance and now it has me imagining you with me all the time. _

No.

So obviously he had to say that he wasn't impressed (lie) and that he couldn't remember it (another lie).

Her eyes swept over his face, her own expression cooling down to one calm carelessness. "You didn't seem too _relaxed _from what I can remember." Clarissa shrugged indifferently.

Jace frowned, brows furrowing. "And what do you mean by that?"

Clarissa shrugged once again, sounding more amused this time "I only mean that that morning, you were even more flustered than the night before."

"I was not . . " Jace's mouth grew dry, "_I was not flustered._"

It was Clarissa's turn to smirk. "Please, do you think that women don't notice when men stare everywhere _but _their faces?"

"Perhaps it was a shock that the woman who'd been dead-but-alive scared the hell out of me twice within 10 hours."

Clarissa gave him a mocking sympathetic look. "Do sexual situations _scare_ you?"

Jace didn't pause in his response. "Would you call that time we had in the kitchen sexual, then?"

Clarissa opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut. And then the blush came creeping up. Oh the blush. Jace truly loved how quickly it could happen. Earlier in the evening, he had just stared at her and suddenly a flushing deep red spread straight to her ears. Nothing could've been more endearing.

"No." she scowled, "It is not."

Jace nodded, out of the corner of his eye seeing a tall figure with black hair approaching them. "You're right. We should wait."

Perhaps he hinted too much, because her lips parted in humor/shock, and Jace felt the overwhelming desire to fulfill his meaningless promise and innuendos. She meant too much, so Jace was a fool to have let Clarissa play around with jhis feelings. If she had barely brushed an arm against him long enough, why in this world would he believe that suggesting anything beyond that would make it any of it less torturous.

* * *

Clary stared at the man in front of her. She was sure she looked stupid with her mouth hanging out. But it seemed she'd lost some control to her nerves. He was so . . . forthright. He'd blurt what was on his mind, and she couldn't help but laugh, or smile, or, in this case, gape at him. Perhaps it was payback from when she'd been deceptive two weeks ago.

And now she couldn't help but compare Detec . . . no, Jonathan, with Sebastian. In everything, they were the complete opposite. Jonathan was playful and what Clary romanticized as a typical hero. Sebastian was conceited and what Clary now saw as a crook. Sebastian was bigger in stature; Jonathan was slimmer in build. Sebastian's hair and eyes were dark; Jonathan was golden everything.

The detective glanced around the room in amusement. "Your party guests are looking antsy. I think they want to talk to you."

Clary sighed and rolled her eyes, but underneath very glad to get off _that _topic. "I don't want to talk to any of them anymore. This whole party thing was a bad idea."

"No, it was a very _good _idea." he disagreed, tilting his head down to look directly at her. "I can't think of an alternative to how you were going to contact everyone."

"Perhaps." Clary nodded, allowing herself to believe him. She'd done this right, at least. But in this room, with all these people, she felt separated and distant. She recognized most of the guests from work, or school, and she thought perhaps that she maybe _did _know them in a past life. But now they felt like strangers, shifting and moving listlessly around.

She had never experienced the end of things very easily. Leaving her mother and living on her own, finishing a year of college, and even deciding to end the engagement at the country house were all difficult decisions to make. But she found that this was not the case tonight. With this strange and new man beside her, she felt her life spiraling in a different direction.

She didn't _feel _like "Clarissa" anymore. She felt no connection to any of the guests, which, Clary guessed, was the reason why she was so weary to get up and socialize. There was no one here she really wanted to talk to. And Clary decided she felt comfortable around this man (even if said man had accused her of murder), and therefore, she didn't fancy talking to people who barely knew her.

She glanced at the detective, hoping that the fact that she was studying him wasn't too obvious. Jonathan really was handsome, with his angular cheekbones, and strong jawline, to his alert, amber eyes. And Clary even found the way that his slicked back hair still refused to stay put to the end of the evening, the sides starting to curl, and a few locks of hair in front falling out of place onto his forehead, endearing. She resisted the urge to push it back, that odd tingly and stomach dropping feeling coming again. And instead of repressing it like before, ignoring something natural and uncontrollable, Clary let herself enjoy the odd butterflies, because it had been a long time since she'd felt that genuine excitement of something new and different and exhilarating.

The nice euphoria was soon deserted when a finger tapped her shoulder. "May I talk to you?"

Clary turned slowly, dreading to see the face that belonged to the voice.

Sebastian.

**This chapter wasn't too bad; I just feel like Clary was isolated the entire time.** **But don't worry, I think Clary will be out in the party life a bit more now. **

**Yeah, I don't have much to say right now, other than checking out my profile. I'm trying to decide which story I want to work on right now. It's between "The Blaze" and the other labeled as just "Medieval AU" because I can't figure out a name for it yet. Both are in early production stages, so I'll probably begin working on the sequel for The Midnight Flower after I finish this, just because I really need to get it started so I won't feel really, really guilty.**

_**And for those with nothing to read currently, but are awaiting my next update, I will shamelessly promote my other fics to you. The Midnight Flower is finished, and it probably isn't the most outstanding thing you'll ever read, as it was about a year ago I wrote and completed, but I'm still proud of it since it was the first thing I've ever finished, as it is really good, I think. **_

**Anyways, reviews are Clace becoming canon in this story. (Not that far off folks, ;D) **

**-Lau**


	25. The Situation of a Party PART 2

**Okay, okay. I know this has been a very long time lapse of updates. And In know you're all thinking, Lau, it's the summer, no one has school anymore, what could you possible be dong? Well, to those asking those questions. I've been doing a lot of camping lately, and gone on trips ion which there has been no time to write or even catch up on the fanfics I am reading. So if I'd been at home more than half the month, you might've received an earlier update.**

**But you must except this late update, because it is better than nothing. Also! I'm temporarily going on a Summer hiatus for the next two or three month. I'm moving across the country on the 1st of August. And packing is the main priority right now. So n o update for a very long time. Sorry guys, but at least I'm not giving you hope!**

**Anyways! Recap! Clary is hosting her party and is wondering where these butterflies keep coming from. (Serious flirtation here) She and Kaelie have made up, but right when things are going pretty good, none other than Sebastian Verlac comes around and wants to talk to her. Jace must make an arrest tonight if he wants to keep his job, due to some fake and inaccurate anonymous tips about how he works. **

**Review and enjoy!**

**-Lau **

**P.S. I'm sorry that I didn't get to respond to anyone's review last chapter. Just finishing this chapter was completely overwhelming and stressful. I'm trying to do better though. :D**

* * *

Sebastian was trying everything to get Clary to look at him but she refused to, glaring at the wall past his shoulder. "Clarissa?" he pleaded with her, "Please look at me."

When her eyes finally did flickered to him, Sebastian immediately regretted asking her to do so. The look of _pure _loathing and hatred was close to a physical slap across the face. Fantastic. What had he done _now_? "Can we just talk - "

"I think that the time for talking is over, Sebastian." Clary scowled, the piercing look in her eyes revealing that she was actually holding back some of her hostility. He tried to imagine her in a nonpublic setting.

"Aw, don't say that, Clarissa." he kept on with the gentle tones, reaching to grab her hand only to have her flinch away. "We can get through this-we always do." he tried to reassure her smoothly. This tactic had always been useful in calming her down; she'd realize she was overreacting, feel guilty, and then she would stop _yelling _at him. But by the look on her face, Sebastian disappointedly realized that it might not work this time.

Clarissa glared witheringly at him. "You must be _the _biggest idiot I know to have the gall to say that."

Sebastian stared. Since when did she have a backbone? "Look, I know you're still angry with me about the whole Kaelie/Aline thing, but it's behind us! We don't have to think about it again!"

Clary's face turned the shade of a ripe tomato, and Sebastian almost flinched away from her. "The only reason _Aline _is behind us is because she's _dead_! And that was _your _fault, too! I wouldn't say it was behind us _at all_!"

Her hands flew up to her hair, where she held onto the updo desperately. "Just because _you _think it's behind us, doesn't mean it is resolved. Since the very beginning of our relationship, you've lied to me. I can't stand it. You're toxic!" A few guests walked by, Clarissa lowering her voice noticeably into a dark tone.

"Kaelie even told me you told her you were 'still in love with her.'" She narrowed her eyes at him, and Sebastian forgot whatever defense he'd prepared three weeks in advance. Her green eyes were perhaps the only thing Sebastian found really attractive in Clarissa. She was too tiny and usually reminded him of a small squirrel. Whenever they lay in bed, Sebastian always worried that one of her bony limbs would jab him in the stomach. Whenever she kissed him, Sebastian had to bend down awkwardly and usually found himself remembering Kaelie's full lips . . .

But her eyes were quite beautiful. The edges crinkled whenever she smiled in a friendly way, and they were the easiest way in telling how Clarissa felt at that time. Up until this last month, the large orbs usually sparkled with affection and love. And as the clock wound down to the wedding, they became cold, calculating, and distant. However, they were nothing compared to what was in them now. In all honesty, she was terrifying. In fact, Sebastian could almost _see _her coming and shooting Aline square in the face in the fit of rage and anger Clarissa had been when she found the two on the couch.

"That wasn't really -" Sebastian stuttered, trying to think of something to distract her anger somewhere else.

"What the hell is _wrong _with you?! How can you just switch from one person to another without even blinking?"

He tried in vain to calm her temper, but it was already a lost battle, and there really was no hope left to try and win it. Sebastian could see now, how Clarissa had called him the biggest idiot she'd ever met; he'd actually _believed _he could save their relationship when she was _this _angry at him. "I didn't mean it -"

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter if you meant it or not! You still said it! To _my _best friend of all people! Did _I _mean anything to you? Did being my fiance _mean _anything to you?" Clarissa still had her voice lowered to a normal volume despite her passionate anger, but it felt like she was screaming at him; her fists shook with intensity and her face looked stretched and strained.

"I was just trying to comfort her. She thought you were dead. I couldn't think of anything -"

Clarissa shook her head, laughing sardonically. "You didn't think that the _truth _would comfort her? What did you have to lose in telling her that I was still alive?" Clarissa scowled at him, arms folded across her chest. Suddenly the small little girl looked big enough to throw a stinging blow. "I'm sure it had something to do with Aline and not wanting Kaelie to hate you again."

Sebastian opened his mouth, but couldn't think of any way to avoid the inevitable. "You're right. I'm scamming you." he blurted.

Clarissa started, blinking with her large, green eyes at him. "What?"

Sebastian exhaled sharply, eyes darting around the room; anywhere but her. "I never really loved you." He'd shocked her, and now maybe he could get a word in. "I needed your money. Your company."

Clarissa blinked rapidly now, biting her lip and shaking her head. "You're despicable."

Sebastian nodded, not denying it. "I got into debt to . . . some bad people."

"Hodge said you lost the savings your parent's gave to you to gambling." Clarissa hugged herself, staring at the floor.

He nodded. "Yeah, he was mostly right about . . " Sebastian chuckled bitterly, "a lot of things. I was lucky that you just thought he was jealous. I was going to marry you, but slowly drain out the money into my checking account. After about a year, I was going to run, and then you'd realize where half of your income disappeared to. So when you left, and Aline was killed . . ." he shuddered, remembering that panicking half hour as he tried to decide what to do. "So when that Detective started investigating," he began again, "I decided to play along because I knew that if I brought attention to myself, they could've dug deep enough to see my financial state."

"Is that why you're hostile with him?" Clarissa's narrowed eyes flickered to him for a small second, looking almost . . . amused?

"I dislike him because . . ." Sebastian hung his head, trying to word everything perfectly for her to understand. "Because I was afraid he would be able to convince you to leave me."

Sebastian chanced a glance at Clarissa. He could tell she was still processing everything, pulling the pieces together. Her hand was covering her mouth, while she stared at her feet, shaking her head.

"I never thought," she started, eyes still trained on the floor, "that you could be that horrible." Clarissa stared at Sebastian now, her face expressionless and closed to any emotion. Her voice sounded monotone, in fact, and Sebastian feared what would be coming next. "I never thought I would be strong enough to do this either, but I am."

Sebastian braced himself for whatever came next, knowing that he did deserve it. He had deceived her for almost two years, and created so much pain in her life lately, he _deserved _to be kicked out to the street, and maybe arrested if she convinced the Detective to.

"I will pay your debt, as long as you get out of my life, and stay away."

Sebastian gaped at her. "You're . . . you're paying my . . . _my _debt? _You're going to pay it_?"

"Stop stuttering like an idiot, Sebastian, however hard that may be for you." she sneered, her posture straightening with her confidence. "And don't thank me. Trust me, I'm doing it for the sake of myself, and all the other girls who are stupid as I was to fall in love with you."

* * *

Clary found another glass of wine, trying to keep it steady in her hand. She wasn't drunk, and she wasn't about to collapse onto the floor in her own vomit, but she was sure that in the morning there'd be a hangover.

In a state to calm her nerves, a drink had graciously passed by her right after the fight with Sebastian. She was still angry at herself. It still felt as though he'd won and gotten the better end of the deal. If it weren't for him, she probably wouldn't be in the mess she was in right then! Why on earth did she owe any of that money to him? What did she owe him at all, anyway? The only thing she should've done was promise not to have him arrested. And with Detective Jonathan's odd hatred towards Sebastian, just a whisper to him about the scam surely could convince him to arrest Sebastian.

She glanced around the room then, in search for the tall, lean figure. When she finally found him, he was sitting in one of the pull up chairs, notebook in hand and writing furiously. Her head tilted, Clary weaved her way toward him. She stopped next to him, plopping down in the chair to the left of him.

"Sebastian's gone." Clary blurted to him, getting the cat out of the bag as soon as she could.

Jonathan's eyebrows shot up, looking up from his notes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Clary willed herself to smile cheerfully, because really, she should be happy, "that Sebastian isn't going to bother me anymore."

"How'd you manage to do that?" he stared, bewildered.

"Money can do so many things." Clary smirked, glancing at the door Sebastian had just left minutes before.

His golden eyes narrowed at her scrutinizingly as he put two and two together. "You paid him to leave?"

Nodding, Clary ignored the shocked looked he sent her way. "Money is probably the most important thing to him anyway. Bribing him to leave was probably the most effective way of getting rid of him." Clary took a sip from her glass and glanced at the detective. "You don't think he was the one who killed Aline, do you?"

Jonathan snorted and shook his head, a few more stray strands of hair coming loose from the slicked back look. "No. I don't think he is a murderer."

Clary frowned, not quite getting the answer she wanted. "So . . . who do you think _did_ kill her?"

Jonathan paused, not looking at her for a long while. Her question hung in the air, filling Clary with suspense and excitement. Jonathan turned his head slowly, his face expressionless. Other than a hint of flashing amusement in his eyes, and the barely just curled side of his lips, Clary couldn't figure out whatever was going on in his head.

"What I think," Jonathan leaned closer to her, lowering his voice to a whisper, his breath and words ghosting over her neck and ear. Goosebumps arose, and Clary fought back the need to grab him. "is that you . . ." his eyes wandered away at his hands on his lap before flitting to her for a moment as he finished, "_you_ don't need to know."

Clary fell back against the back of her chair, unaware of the tension in her shoulders until just then. Jonathan wasn't leaning toward her either, and still looked slightly amused with his smirk growing wider.

She wasn't satisfied with his answer, but a sense of relief filled her. For what, she wasn't sure. But her stomach was twisting in knots again, and whether or not it was the good kind or the bad kind, she wasn't sure of. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. The excitement and pleasure thrown in with nervousness and unsurety. Blinking hard, Clary tried to ignore the feeling and focus on the disappointment. The disappointment that Jonathan didn't trust her enough to tell her. Why else would he withhold his thoughts from her?

"I think that above anyone in this world _I _have the right to know." Clary picked at her fingernails, downplaying the heavy words as much as she could.

"Knowing isn't a right, Clarissa." he gave a knowing look, as if to say that nothing she could say would deter. And she was sure he was right and wouldn't change his mind. But the statement just felt so wrong, and Clary found herself slipping the name without a second thought. "Clary."

Jonathan raised a questioning eyebrow at her. "Who?"

"My name . . ." Clary sighed, shaking her head. Sometimes she got herself into the stupidest mess because of a whim. Just take a look at Sebastian Verlac. "It's my nickname that my mother always called me. I disliked it growing up because I thought it sounded like a little baby." Clary inwardly groaned. This story was going downhill and awkward quick. "It's why everyone I'm friends with just call me Clarissa. it's my professional name. But I've always referred to myself as Clary."

Jonathan was staring at her, but Clary felt no embarrassment. Her foot tapped the ground in a nervous beat, hoping to hear him say it, to _see_ Jonathan say it. For some reason, it'd been an odd fantasy of her's she'd had of late. No one but her mother had ever said it, and she was thankful for that too. No one she'd met up to this point had Clary ever wished to reveal her intimate name.

She stared at his lips, not noting anything else about him as he said it. "Clary." it was soft, like he was short of breath and just said it on the last exhalation of air. The air in her lungs seemed to disappear as she gazed back at him. He was inches away from her but Clary didn't remember getting close to him. His golden eyes felt like a warm fire against her skin. Around the edges, smiling lines crinkled together a little, with both his eyebrows raised in surprise and eagerness. She leaned forward, expecting the same response. She opened her eyes and watched as he froze up, eyes widening to big, golden saucers.

He sat back almost immediately, stuttering out apologies. "I . . . I didn't mean anything like that. I'm sorry if we . . . well I mean I . . . led you to believe that . . . I'm just sorry." he spluttered, standing up to leave. Clary watched, bewildered that he had rejected her. He'd always been so responsive to her flirtations and occasional physical touches. _She_ had felt so sure . . .

"Jonathan?" Clary latched onto his sleeve, pulling him back to her.

"Ugh, it's nothing." Jonathan frowned and tried to leave again, panic filling his expression.

"Jonathan . . ." she said it as a warning this time. She needed to know what was so wrong that all her evaluations of Jonathan had been incorrect.

"I feel guilty!" Jace turned toward her finally, looking her square in the eye with a strange look of desperation. "I . . . You know what? Don't worry about it."

Clary rose to him, sliding her hand from his wrist to his hand. She squeezed it, but only to have Jonathan wrench his hand away.

"What did you do?" Clary asked, stepping closer to him, not able to tear her eyes from his.

He smiled sardonically and shook his head. "I haven't done anything yet. But if you knew what exactly I _am_ going to do tonight, you wouldn't want me to kiss you. I doubt you'd want to be in the same room as me for a very long while."

"Jonathan, that's not true." Clary swallowed thickly, feeling embarrassed now. He didn't want her. He didn't even _like _her. He'd only been using her for a distraction for whatever horrible thing he was going to do that night.

"But it is. Trust me. When you find out . . ." he laughed wearily and shook his head. "I'm sorry for what's coming."

Clary stared after him as he walked away, feeling flustered still from their almost-kiss and confused. What on earth could he do that would make him feel so much guilt . . . Why would she be so angry with him anyways? Clary blamed his discreet words on his being a detective. He probably was so used to solving puzzles, he now spoke like one.

Clary picked up the empty wine glass next to her and fingered the rim, trying to calm herself down with the soft ringing. But after a while, the high pitch started to make her head ache and buzz. Clary stood up, feeling herself stumble a little from her tipsy state. It didn't occur to her to try and find Jonathan; right then, she wanted to talk to one person who was predictable and easy to read. And _not_ at all confusing in any way.

* * *

"Hodge!" Clary exclaimed, walking quickly to him. He sat alone on a couch, staring at his intertwined hands on his lap. His head jerked up to meet her eyes, and he immediately smiled at the sight of her.

Dear, good old Hodge. Very reliable. Very friendly to her. She had been lucky enough to earn his trust and respect, as few did in this world. "Clarissa! I'm glad that I got a chance to talk to you. I wasn't sure if you would be too busy with all your other guests."

Clary rolled her eyes and waved his words off. "Those people aren't my real friends. You are. Along with Kaelie. I know I can trust her now."

Hodge frowned, eyebrows crinkling into one line. "You two made up?"

"Yes, luckily before anything got worse."

"What did you two say?"

Clary shrugged, leaning against the back cushion. "We only talked about what happened while I was gone for that week, throw in some tantrums, tears, an eventual friend make up, and an awkward entrance of Jonathan at the end, you should get the whole picture."

"Jonathan? As in the _Detective_?"

Clary rolled her eyes, trying not to snort. "You only hear what you want to hear, do you Hodge?"

"Last I _heard_ from you about the detective was that he was accusatory and too harsh and rude to Sebastian. And now you're calling him by his first name."

"Please, I'm sure you enjoyed him ruffing up Sebastian just a _little_ bit." Clary teased, giving his shoulder a shove.

Hodge didn't say anything, but Clary could see the small smile he was trying to hide.

Trying a different tactic, Clary picked at her nails carelessly. "Well if you liked Sebastian so much, I should've had him say good bye to you on the way out."

It took a moment, but only a moment (as Hodge was very intelligent) for him to truly realize what she was saying. "You . . . you got rid of him? Is that what you mean?"

Clary laughed and nodded. "Yes, I'm hoping to be lucky enough to never see Sebastian again in this lifetime."

"Hopefully it's a long one." Hodge took hold of her hand, eyes glistening. "I'm so happy for you."

Clary removed her hand from his, smiling sheepishly. "No need to get all sappy on me, Hodge."

"But the thing I wanted to talk to you about . . . it is serious."

Clary's eyebrows furrowed, her heart tumbling into her stomach. "You're not . . sick, are you, Hodge?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "No, no. Nothing-" his hand was reaching to his pocket when a loud, clear voice cut through his.

"No, don't worry. I told you I'd bring in the killer today, Chief." Clary let out a gasp, jumping out of her seat to stand closer to Jonathan. In fact, it seemed like the whole room seemed to grow quiet, the constant chatter dying down to complete silence. "Yeah I was just about to make the arrest when you called."

Clary narrowed her eyes at his almost amused look. His smirk was obviously and aggravatingly present, at least. "No, no . . . I can't tell you - I'm not alone. You'll see when I get there." He put the phone back and pretended to look bewildered at the crowd that had been hanging onto every word he said.

He silently stepped toward Hodge and Clary, his legs swinging as he walked in a casual fashion. The silence felt like a 100 ton weight crushing her shoulders. "Mr. Starkweather . . ." Jonathan said, pursing his lips at him, "I'm going to need you to let go of Ms. Fairchild's hand . . ." Clary dazedly released the wrinkled hand, not remembering grasping hold of it. All the air seemed to leave her lungs as her darkest suspicions confirmed themselves.

"Because . . . Ms. Fairchild . . . you are under arrest for the murder of Aline Penhallow. You have the right to remain silent . . ."

Everything else that he said faded into a red, roaring blur. But Clary could understand now. She understood what he could do to make her hate him.

**So Jace has arrested Clary as the suspect . . . Your thoughts? Do you think he actually believes it? Any more suspicions on the murderer? **

**Any thoughts on the TV show? I've been following everything pretty closely and I'm super excited that our fandom has a second chance! What are your guys's thoughts on the cast and everything? **

**Also! I want to offer a snippet (when I have the whole thing written, of course.) to all those who reviewed. So whoever reviews, will get a pretty awesome, long clip of next chapter . . . trust me. You'll want it. Jace and CLary locked up in a room together . . . tension so present . . . maybe some angry kissing thrown in there? **

**Please review!**

**-Lau**


	26. The Situation of an Arrest

**I am pathetic. I did not get to where I wanted (this chapter is mostly filler) AT ALL and I feel quite terrible about it. My creative juices have been running low for this story, but overflowing on other unpublished works that I've been trying out. I have two new stories in Google Drive that have two very long chapters that are steadily increasing in word count. I'm very excited to show them to you, and I hope you'll read them when i do decide to upload it. **

**Anyways, I've moved across the country and have mostly settled into my new school and house, so I thought, wow, I should try to finish that one chapter that I can't work on for the life of me, and it just happened that my computer monitor just died after seven years. Of all times . . . But that's life, so anyways, enjoy the extremely short chapter :/**

**Props to awesome reviewers who motivated me to get this done. :D**

**-Lau**

Jace swallowed thickly, his mouth unpleasantly dry. He moved forward to Clarissa - _Clary _\- and lifted the metal handcuffs. The weight of them had burned a hole into his pocket, weighing him down whenever Clary conversed with him.

_When she'd tried to kiss him_.

His pocket might have felt lighter now, but consequently, something in his chest dropped.

Almost immediately -and expectedly- Hodge stepped in front of Clary. "You're being ridiculous. She obviously isn't the one who murdered Aline!"

Jace worked around snapping something stupid. "This isn't your business."

Jace waited for the "You're arresting the wrong person!" cliche to come out of his mouth, but was overly surprised instead by the unorthodox response.

Hodge's eyes narrowed, his nose wrinkled. "Fine." his attention turned to Clary, his voice wavering to kinder, softer tones. "Let them persecute you. I'll protect _you_, Clarissa."

Clary up until then had been expressionless. He couldn't guess what was going on her head. She was blinking rapidly now as she turned to stare at Jace, his already low heart dropping down to his stomach. Her bright green eyes glared a hole into him, her lovely lips curling into a scowl. She was not happy.

Everyone in the party had crowded into a large crescent to try and hear what was going on. Other than a few whispers, the crowd was mostly quiet. They stared expectantly at the three. Some of their suspicions of Clary were confirmed, while others expressed their shock that Hodge wasn't arrested.

Jace shook the handcuffs, the shiny metal clinking together in the quiet room. "Any time now." he said impatiently.

Hodge threw a dirty glance over his shoulder at Jace, but (surprisingly) didn't retaliate. "Just cooperate and I'll have you out of there in no time."

The statement sent Jace's stomach into twisting knots. Did Hodge have enough power to release Clary for a crime she could've committed? Did Hodge have enough power to end a police officer's career, perhaps? . . .

* * *

"Are the handcuffs really necessary?" it was the first thing Clary spoke to him, once they left the elevator. "I promise not to shoot anyone, if that's what you're worried about." she added sardonically.

Jace glanced guiltily at the back of her head for a moment, stomach churning and twisting. She'd been cooperative, but deadly silent, making Jace fear what kind of explosion she would unleash upon him when they reached the station.

"It's procedure." Jace weakly replied.

"If I _were _a criminal, I'd see why, but considering I'm _not-_"

"It's not proven-"

"It also isn't _true_."

"That remains to be determined." Jace gripped her arm, leading her through the hotel. He wished desperately that he could've made the arrest in a less public setting. But he'd had no desire to arrest her. All the times he'd helped her out with the party planning and the guest list, and food . . . Jace could've done it then. He'd been selfish. He knew that. He'd procrastinated to the last possible night to make the arrest, and now not only humiliated her, but manipulated Clary into making her think that she was safe and secure.

The hotel front desk manager stopped his paperwork to stare at the two, mouth agape and eyes as wide as saucers, as they reached the door. Jace opened the door, and Clary nearly fled the rest of the way to the car before anyone else could see her. Jace closed his eyes, feeling yet another wave of overwhelming anger at himself for being so stupid and selfish. He was putting his job _before _her! What kind of display of love was that?

Jace shook himself, reminding him that he had a plan, and it was a _good _plan. _Everything would go according to _plan_. _It was nice assurance that wouldn't last very long, and Jace knew it. But there was no way of going about this successfully without being confident, even if his plan was sketchy.

Jace hurried to open the police car door for Clary, which she snorted at. "_Such_ a gentleman."

He remained silent, before turning the keys harshly into the slot and turning on the car. As they passed the hotel, Jace heard Clary shift toward the window, peering outside into the darkness. Jace could see shadowy people streaming out of the front entrance. It looked as if someone had the idea to kick everyone out now that the hostess had been arrested.

"All in all, I think the guests enjoyed themselves." Jace made for conversation, as the street passed them. He'd realized that this could be potentially the most uncomfortable car ride he'd ever experience.

"I'm sure the last five minutes were quite a show." Clary grumbled from the backseat.

Jace adjusted the front mirror so he could see her. "I'm serious, it looked like most of the people there were happy to see you alive."

Clary's lips almost quirked up amusedly, before she remembered to scowl, making eye contact with him, the green barely visible from the streetlights outside. They were piercing; Jace felt like every inch of his soul was being inspected and turned over. Unable to avert his gaze from her, Jace remained staring at Clary, and she him. When he was younger, Jace used to feel uncomfortable looking at anyone's eyes, but now it seemed he couldn't get enough. Her eyes had been the first thing to draw him to her. Jace did not know Clary's face at the time, but it seemed as though she knew him, the intelligent, bright green eyes in the painting-

"Stop it." she finally said, looking down at her hands.

Jace checked the road, his mind going into autopilot for the past minute. "What?"

"Stop being . . ." she groaned in frustration, sinking back into her seat. "Just stop talking to me."

"I didn't mean to be rude, I was only joking." Jace rushed, biting his lip and tightening his grip on the leather wheel. "Everyone _was _happy that you are alive, I was only just-"

"Stop talking." She sighed and turned to look out her window, limiting his view of her face to a side angle. "I'm just . . . really confused, is all."

"About what?"

"I don't have to talk to you!" she snapped suddenly, glaring at him again.

"What's wrong-"

"_Oh_ _please_ just _shut up_!' Clary shouted at him, her arms shifting with the handcuffs behind her back. "Do you want to know what's _wrong_? I'll tell you! I'm sitting in a police car, arrested for something I've never nor will I ever do! But it wouldn't be half as bad if _someone _hadn't been lying to me the _entire _time! What were you trying to do? Get close to me just to see if I would give something away?"

"I was just doing my job." Jace swallowed, knowing it wasn't the correct answer. If anything, Clary grew more livid.

"I _know _what you're job entails, _Detective_. I also know that it isn't in your job description that you . . . that you make someone care about you, and then betray them in front of everyone that they know, just for further humiliation, as if feeling like a fool isn't bad enough."

"Clary-"

"No! _You _don't get to call me that! To think that I . . . I can't believe I've been so _stupid_! It's like I thought . . . I thought I could actually trust someone. That a person actually didn't want to use me for their own end and then toss me in the trash when when they didn't need me anymore." her voice cracked, and Jace found himself wanting to leap into the backseat and convince her that he was doing this so she could be safe and _not _get hurt. That he was doing this because he really _did _care about her. That he was doing this (in his own, whacky way) to show that he loved her.

"It just shows that, as usual, I'm a terrible judge of character." Clary continued. "First Sebastian, now _you_."

She'd compared him to Sebastian. She thought of him the same way she would with Sebastian. A small part of him brought to mind that Clary had loved Sebastian, but the much more practical and pessimistic side reminded him that she now loathed the sight of Sebastian.

The street seemed to brighten as the car reached the downtown area, where the police department sat on the left side of the river. It was a four story building, with a few, redundantly scattered windows. Jace pulled over to the curb, and, swallowing a thick lump in the back of his throat, started the most difficult seven hours of his whole career, and quite possibly, his life.

**So yeah, I'll get to the exciting stuff next chapter. ****This was mostly an update to let all you guys know that I haven't abandoned this story****, I know exactly what's going to happen and I will try to update monthly. **

**Reviews are life guys, a girl gotta have them to survive this dark and dangerous world. There are only so many things I can ask you guys to review about, so I guess I'll go with this one: What do you think Jace is planning? And in return, I will send you a short AU of what happened at the party . . . If you're interested, that is. **

**Love you lots,**

**-Lau**


	27. The Situation of an Interrogation

**Wohoo! I updated sooner than I thought! Kudos to everyone who reviewed and left such wonderful feedback! And everyone who followed and favorites (there was a lot of you, so thanks!) This is a chapter that I've looked forward to since I began writing, so it's very exciting for me to finally share it with you! I don't think I have many chapters left. I think we have at most three chapters until the end. **

"Let's get started, then." Jace closed the door, sending the room into total darkness for a few seconds as he clumsily searched for the lamp. He could hear Clary shifting in her seat, the metal clang of her handcuffs sounding sharp in the quiet blackness. He wondered if she might run for it; the door was unlocked and he couldn't see practically-

_Click._

A bright white light suddenly filled the room, Clary gasped and squeezed her eyes shut from the sudden adjustment. Jace blinked away the dark spots still floating in his vision. "Sorry about that."

The lamp was very large and directed into the interrogated eyes which officers usually used to make the suspect as uncomfortable and confused as possible. He knew it worked, but in this case, Jace wished he could point it away from her. She squirmed in her chair, looking like a small, troubled child.

"Clarissa Fairchild," Jace started officially, at first deciding he should go by normal procedure, but found it now to sound utterly ridiculous. "You have made the claim that you did _not _return to town until about week later from your country house."

"Yes." Clarissa rolled her eyes and tried to fold her arms but found it impossible due to the handcuffs restraining her.

"And you didn't return to your apartment at all?"

"_No_, I already told you this." Clary scowled.

"And you did not make contact with anyone while there?"

"No."

"Did anyone contact _you _while you were there?"

"No."

"Not even Sebastian, who knew you were still alive?"

"No."

"Right." Jace replied awkwardly. At this point, following procedure would be wasting time.

"What did you do then, the first night at the Country House."

Clary froze, shutting her eyes from the glaring light, before squinting up at him. "I was . . . I unpacked and fell asleep."

"That's it." Jace stated disbelievingly. "That's all you did?"  
"That's it." Clary repeated, looking menacingly ghastly in the bright lamplight. It outlined her features sharply, which contrasted with her much softer traits, like her long cheekbones and perfect lips. The light whitewashed everything about her, making even her vibrant hair look like a lifeless orange. Her was as pale as a sheet, and the normally red lips were colorless. Everything that was so . . . _Clary _was gone in the light.

But as she made eye contact with him, Jace found that the observation was wrong in one respect. Everything else about her might've been a boring tone, but the light reflected off her eyes, making them bigger and brighter than he had ever seen them. Jace stared at what was usually a brilliant emerald color, but was now a bright lime.

Jace shook his head disbelievingly . "You're telling me that after seeing Sebastian Verlac, _the man you loved_-who you were going to _marry in a week_\- in your apartment, on _your _couch, no less, _screwing _a coworker, and all you did was skip back to your country house and unpack your things before falling _asleep _peacefully?"

"Shut up." she spat at him, trying to stand from her chair. Jace found that he was glad she was still handcuffed, for she looked ready to leap across the table and claw his eyes out. "Of course I was _angry_! I can't describe how furious I was in the English language! _Of course_ I wanted to rip them apart! I just didn't act on it! I'm a woman, and therefore I actually think things _through before _acting on every whimsical thought. "

"So you _did _think of murdering her."

"No." Clary shook her head, "I was mostly thinking that I want to castrate Sebastian." she replied simply and honestly. "It's still a thought I entertain every so often."

Jace's eyes widened to saucers and tried to force back a laugh. He cleared his throat. "It's a shame; you'd do a world if good if you did . . ."

Her lips lifted slightly into a smirk and the brilliant green of her eyes flashed mischievously. She shifted in her chair, the amused expression fading away into confusion as she looked him up and down, her eyes narrowing and shoulders hunching down. Jace felt about just as confused on his behavior as well; he pitied Clary. What was she thinking if he didn't understand his behavior himself?

"So you never wanted to inflict any kind of harm on Aline?" Jace tried to continue normally.

Clary scoffed, the handcuffs ironically merrily jingling "Maybe a slap or two. But Aline wasn't the first, and she wouldn't have been the last. She was never really the threat to our impending marriage; that was Sebastian's large appetite."

"Okay," Jace nodded, believing her, "So why did you come back saying you're going to break off the marriage, and the next morning, after a five minute chat, you agreed to calling the marriage back on?"

Clary frowned, her mouth moving like she was chewing on a hard bit of leather. "I . . . Sebastian was . . ." she sighed, her hands awkwardly massaging her forehead. She asked softly, looking at him pleadingly, "Can you please turn off that blasted lamp? It's giving me a headache."

Jace stared at her softer face, feeling his stomach twist pleasantly and finally relented, switching on the room light on and turning off the bright lamp. Immediately, Clary closed her eyes in relief and leaned back in her chair. Jace, instead of coming back around to his previous seat, sat the edge of the table next to Clary.

"Why did you so easily call back the wedding when you were so angry at Sebastian?" Jace rephrased, leaning so he could see her better. She looked much more colorful in this light, her complexion not so ghostlike (the reminder that she at some point had been dead to him was not beyond him), and her eyes in a much more normal size.

"You can't disagree that he'd been put in a very suspicious predicament." Clary finally burst, averting her gaze to anything but him. "After he talked to me about his . . . situation . . . I knew he was harmless -physically, that is - so we decided that we would keep the wedding plans on-"

"Because it would look suspicious to everyone if they heard that you were breaking off the engagement." Jace finished to which Clary nodded. "And who exactly came up with the idea?"  
"Well . . . it was Sebastian." Clary frowned, her eyes widening when she saw his knowing look. "But . . . but he _wouldn't _do that! He's not a killer!"

"Are you sure about that?" Jace raised an eyebrow, watching her closely. "He's the only one that knew almost everything that happened. He was also there at the scene of the crime! Sebastian literally saw everything other than the face of the killer, so how do we know if he isn't?"

"'_We_?' _Who is 'we?'_" Clary stopped him, her face growing red. "And _why_ are you trying to convince me that _Sebastian _murdered Aline when I'm the one _sitting here in handcuffs?_ Explain _that_!"

Jace swallowed, wondering why he was so sloppy and unorganized around her. When he glanced back down, Clary was still glaring up at him, her green eyes flashing coldly. And then he remembered. It was because she was real and alive in front of him that made him stumble, her heartbeat that steadily distracted him and her brilliant green eyes that caused him to forget almost anything. He didn't answer her because she was right, and he figured she'd already guessed what he wanted to know.

"So Sebastian was the one to convince you to keep at the wedding."

Her eyes rolled at the sudden subject change and slouched back in her chair, twisting a stray piece of hair that had fallen from her elaborate bun. "Yes, he managed to."

"What did Sebastian do that convinced you he wasn't the killer? Why did you trust him so easily when he'd just betrayed you?" Jace pushed on, leaning toward her even more.

Clary, blinking at him, straightened in her chair and licked her lips and turned to stare determinedly at the stained table's surface. "He . . . well he tried to-"

"Clary, don't try lying to me. Don't you realize you're involved in a murder? Do you know how much trouble you're in?" Jace warned her, watching as her expression morphed from anger into confusion to determination and finally to a sad, hopeless look.

Her small nose wrinkled and her head bowed. Jace waited silently until she slowly raised herself up, her eyes bloodshot and filmy. "Fine . . . Here's the truth." she almost snarled, swallowing and licking her lips, her hands twisting in her lap. White marks cut into her skin from the handcuffs. As venomous as she sounded, she looked nervous and almost guilty from her body language.

"It was the . . . the night I left." Clary finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Her alto voice did not waver or break, but was steady and assured. Jace prepared himself, hoping that the 99% of his mind was right and not that small, doubting 1%. "I headed to this small town about 15 miles away from my house for a drink at a bar and . . . I met a guy there and he . . ." she looked like she'd just eaten a slice of moldy bread. "He was nice and all. I thought," she shook her head, smiling bitterly, "it would be like some kind of payback, to let Sebastian know that _I _could cheat too. That I was capable of doing whatever I wanted to, too."

Jace stayed silent; if he said anything now she might've shut down and not said anything else. "But after, when I left . . ." Clary swallowed, her eyes now dry, "I felt so guilty. It was like something was gnawing at me constantly, and I couldn't _stop _thinking about it the entire week. I'd brought myself to his level and it felt _awful _and sickening." she looked at him now, her face clear of any emotion. Her lips tightened as she continued. "And when I came back I was so overwhelmed by _you _and what you were telling me . . . I called Sebastian and for some reason all I wanted to do was apologize to him. So when he asked that the wedding continue on until the investigation was over . . . I agreed." Clary shrugged, her lips lifting up bitterly. "Like I was trying to make it up to him, or something.

"So I guess I'm sorry for tricking you that first night . . . and the next morning as well." Clary blushed, probably remembering how affected Jace was to her attire (or lack thereof). "Sebastian is very . . .manipulative with his words. He can really convince you to do anything-"

Not wanting to hear just how persuasive Sebastian _actually _was, Jace cut her off. "You're free to go."

Clary blinked at him. "What?"

"You are . . . unarrested." Jace grimaced at his choice of words.

Clary stared at him, her mouth slowly opening and gaping at him. "You . . . you're letting me go?"

Jace nodded, taking a small key from his coat pocket and taking her hands in his own. Clary watched him closely as his fingers flicked the handcuffs open. Her hands were so pale compared to his, and soft; the thin wrist so small that Jace thought of how easily he could just snap her in half. With the way she was staring up at him in a confused, dazed expression, her lips parted, Jace couldn't help himself; his thumb smoothed over the white ring around her wrist casually and quickly, hoping she didn't notice his touch. The metal made a small tinkling sound as Jace swung them around his finger into a neat, folded circle, tucking the handcuffs back into his pocket. Clary blinked out of her bewildered state at the sound and didn't back away from their close proximity.

Jace cleared his throat. "I'll call a cab for us."

"But . . . I don't understand." Clary frowned at him, her head tilted. "Why did you . . . Why did you arrest me if you were just going to let me go? I thought you sus-"

"That's what I wanted you to think." Jace explain, shoving his fedora hat back on his head. "I never had you pegged as the murderer."

Face scrunched up, Clary frowned. "Then why all _this_?" her arms gestured to the room. "Why all the questions? Was it all theatrics?"

"I had to be 100% sure about you. I knew you weren't telling me something, and I needed to eliminate any doubt." Jace said, opening the door for her. She didn't move, standing still in the middle of the gray walled room.

"So you arrested me because I didn't tell you something?" she reiterated harshly. "You put me through the stress and panic of being tried for murder, just because I was withholding _personal _information?"

"It's what motivated you the past few weeks; I'd say it was pretty important." Jace argued, waiting by the door, while Clary refused to move until she got the answer she wanted.

"So what if it was?"

"If I was any other detective, you would be in a cell. Any other, unobservant conk could've missed information and thought that instead of actually feeling guilty about a one night stand, you were grasping onto Sebastian to try and save yourself."

"That's ridiculous." Clary shook her head, walking leisurely toward him and the door. "Why would I go to Sebastian? He's sloppy and slow; Hodge would be a better fit, since he has actual power."

"It makes a little sense. Any other normal detective could misjudge Sebastian and his relationship with you. It's easy to do."

A small, knowing smile grew on her face. "I suppose I should be lucky to have such an observant Detective on the job, then."

"I should think so." Jace replied, smirking.

"And you're not a 'normal' detective?" Clary leaned against the opposite side of the door, the space between them growing smaller and smaller the more she moved.

"Clary," Jace said seriously, "I am the most fantastic, experienced professional in my line of work. Would I call myself normal? Probably not."

Clary laughed, tucking a few frazzled strands behind her ear. "I'm guessing a normal detective wouldn't arrest someone he didn't believe was guilty, either?"

Jace shrugged. "I don't think anyone else could pull it off like I did."

She snorted, straightening her posture, her chest now just inches away from his. Jace resisted the urge to just grab her, lock the door, push her against the table-

He did not entertain the thought any longer and averted his eyes away. "Was coming here really necessary?" her eyebrows raised at him.

"I . . . umm," Jace swallowed as she stepped nearer to him. "I needed an . . . official environment to talk to you."

"Mhmm . . . " her eyes narrowed, and something about her uplifted lips made Jace think she was amused by him. She obviously didn't believe him, but it didn't look like she cared that much about it. "Then I hope this . . . game you're playing . . . it had better be worth it." she slipped past him, Jace taking a deep breath as he watched her walk down the hallway to the lobby.

How he'd managed it - Clary not being completely forever furious with him, that is - was a miracle. He wasn't sure what he'd said, and he'd never know what went on in her head. He watched her walk away from him, her step lighter and shoulders relaxed. Whether it was finally telling someone her weighty secrets or the fact that he didn't really believe she was a murderess, he also wasn't sure which. All he did know was that Clary _was _innocent and still in immense danger from the real murderer.

**There won't be an epilogue because reasons, but what does everyone think? The big reveal will be pretty soon (sooner than you think) and I'll be happy for that everyone will know what I know! So ready for next update! Please review about what you think now and pleeaaase tell me what you liked best about this chapter!**

**Love you all**

**-Lau**


	28. The Situation of Hodge and Clary

**_Wow it's been months guys! I'm so sorry for the long wait but school has been kicking my butt this last semester and now that it is summer, I can get this last chapter to ya hopefully very soon. I'm not going to babble any excuses to you so please enjoy, read, and review! Love you all!_**

**_Update: Jace arrested Clary during her own party for many reasons. One of them being he had run out of time before he was going to lose the case and someone else was going to handle it instead of him. Another being he was confused on Clary's behavior the night of her homecoming, and the morning after. Jace interrogates a very pissed off Clary and ends up letting her go. Clary is actually not to mad him after that and that is where we begin!_**

**_-Lau_**

_He had more time._

Jace frowned and jabbed the doorbell once more, the only noise in the empty hallway was the loud buzzing sound. He hadn't been to Starkweather's apartment since the very beginning of the case, an entire month ago now. Jace allowed himself one more knock before getting to work.

_And she wasn't furious with him anymore._

He didn't have a screwdriver or hammer on hand, but he did have a sturdy pocket knife, and it would do. Driving the blade underneath the head of the nail, Jace slammed his palm into the butt end of the handle in an upwards motion, smirking as the nail moved up a hair. He repeated to slam his hand against the pocket knife. The nail was so loose now that Jace could easily yank it out of the hinge.

_In fact, Clary was more than friendly in the car ride home, sitting in shotgun and brushing her shoulder against his for most of the ride. Her smile didn't waver and her careless laugh filled the car multiple times._

Jace shook his head to clear his thoughts as he crouched down to finish off the last nail, quickly hammering it out of the socket. The door quivered and the lock that had prevented it from opening cracked, wooden splinters snapping as the door fell forward and crashed to the ground.

_Her eyes were disappointed, however, when he told Clary he would not being walking her to her door, and so Jace took heart that maybe she wanted to spend even more time with him alone._

Jace carefully stepped around the fallen door in the open entry and began his search. Hodge was obviously not there, which Jace had assumed when he saw the old man's car was not parked up front after he'd dropped off Clary at her hotel.

As he remembered, fragile china antiques were displayed in glass cases. Two plush couches that looked like they had never been sat on faced each other. The only sign that the apartment room had ever been used was a tray on a coffee table, a cup still full of cold tea.

_He'd watched her as she walked, alone, to the front door and disappear up the elevator. His partner Jonathan, who was smoking by the side of the building, gave Jace a nod that he would watch her for now as Jace left. _

He began his search through the large apartment, working his way through the tiny kitchen and bathroom, checking all cabinets for any signs of a gun or secret compartments of any kind. Hodge seemed like the kind of guy to make a secret passageway in his chimney or bookshelf.

Finding most of the cabinets empty, Jace combed through Hodge's bedroom, the only disturbing thing he found was a smaller copy of Clary's painting sitting in a delicate frame on Hodge's bedside table. His closet was full of very similar gray suits and brown loafers and round fedora hats.

_But, most importantly, Clary was innocent._

Jace finished in the front room, lifting glass lids and looking inside vases, tapping on walls for any hollow sound. As much as Jace was distracted by thoughts of Clary, he couldn't find any way it was a hindrance to him. He felt more aware than he had ever felt before. The light bulbs cast a warm glow over the room while Jace searched thoroughly. The whole apartment smelled like old people, with a moist, earthy musk that Jace assumed came from the untouched herbal tea. The antiques rattled harshly as Jace inspected each vase, teapot, and jar. The grandfather clock rung richly by the door, marking that it was 11 PM.

Jace finished his search then, scratching his head as he wondered where he went wrong. All evidences led to Hodge: the older, jealous, wealthy man who hated Sebastian for being everything Hodge wasn't and, in his eyes, not equal to his own superiority. Hodge was confident in his intelligence enough to hide his weapon either in his own hiding place at home, or possibly even in Clary's own suite. But now that both of these options had been eliminated, Jace wasn't so sure of his current theory.

In his mind, Jace had could imagine the scene with three of the suspects current. Sebastian and Aline, of course, would be alone in Clary's suite, desecrating the couch, when a knock was heard at the door. Aline would've laughed, while Sebastian panicked, feeling guilty at getting caught by Clary right after she had supposedly left. Aline threw on some clothes and would have assured Sebastian that it was just room service or a hotel worker.

But Hodge was there, the shotgun propped against his shoulder and shot Aline before she could even scream. And this was where Jace's mind went blank. When and where could Hodge have hidden the gun without being seen by Sebastian when he'd run out, or by Dorothea in the room connected to Clary's, who had called the police after she heard the gunshot? Jace's partner Jonathan had found no gun after searching the suite on the first day. But it would've been impossible for Hodge to have hidden it anywhere else _but_ the suite. A shotgun was just a little conspicuous to hide once everyone had heard a shot and gone into a panic.

Jace pulled out his small notepad, flipping it over to the very first page. There was a doodle of Hodge he had drawn with his head inflating more and more the angrier he got. The next few pages were very similar, and Jace found that his tactic of _pretending _to write down important things wasn't a good strategy at all. The most important and informative doodle he'd found so far was an amusing chart of everyone's connections to Clary. Sebastian was connected to practically every female on the chart, save for Dorothea, with insensitive labels connecting them together.

Kaelie's and Sebastian's line was labelled "formally screwed," while his and Aline's line read as "coworkers with benefits." Hodge and Clary's line was there, but not filled in, so Jace wrote in "her mentor and stalker." Jace flipped the page over and sighed in relief that he had actually written some kind of note for his future wellness. The scrawl read, "Hodge wants back vase, clock, and letters."

He frowned, remembering the avid desire for Hodge to regain his possessions. He could also recall that their first conversation included Hodge reprimanding him for touching the clock. Jace leaped out of his seat and rushed over to it, the once quiet ticking now filling his ears. He could feel the time slipping away now as he inspected the clock.

The front was mostly glass so one could see into the insides of it as the gears moved against each other and turned. The glass was surrounded by walnut paneling, with a foot tall door near the feet. Jace squatted and opened the small door excitedly, sure that on the other side he would find the missing shotgun. But once it was open, an intricate sheet of delicate glass was all to show. Jace frowned and ran his hands down his face, sighing tiredly. He had already destroyed the front door; there was no turning back now.

"Well this is just perfect." Jace muttered and stood up, lifting his foot and smashing his heel into the panel of glass. He brushed the tiny shards of glass off his leg and bent down to inspect the damage. The glass had once hid a hollow recess longer than the length of Jace's arm. It was, however, empty. Jace rushed out of the apartment and jumped over the fallen door, hopping down the two flights three stairs at a time, realizing what this meant.

If Hodge knew about this small alcove, he could've hid the gun in Clary's own clock by the door within seconds and been able to run out before Sebastian could even pull his pats on. And if Hodge wasn't here in his house, he could be in only one other place. Hodge could have killed her by now. If he could never have her, then no one else should get the chance. Jace cursed as he fumbled with the keys and unlocked his car.

He sped and reeled around the corner, his heart thumping in fear of what could be happening right now but he had no power to stop. Jace, racing through the empty streets towards the hotel, felt the whole ride pass slower than it ever had before. He ignored every rule of the road, luckily no one _too_ impaired by his driving since it was so late in the evening.

Once Jace had-_finally_-reached the hotel, he leaped out of the car and bounded up the steps, noticing Jonathan's empty car still parked on the curb. That gave Jace a little reassurance as he passed by the bellhop and front desk without any acknowledgment and boarded the elevator. The elevator attendant gave a startled gasp and stared at Jace like he had come in wearing nothing but his trousers. Jace tapped his foot impatiently, and reached around her, pressing the correct button to Clary's floor. He tried not to think of Clary's corpse laying on the floor; it was an image he could easily conjure up however, as he had looked over the morbid crime scene photos dozens of times in the past month.

The elevator lurched to a stop and dinged as the doors slid open. Jace murmured a "thanks" and left the attendant in shock as the doors again closed and took her to the main floor. He raced down the hall, his footsteps muffled by the patterned carpet and breathed a sigh of relief.

Where Clary's door was located, Jace's partner, Jonathan Morgenstern, stood guard. "Hodge is inside?"

Jonathan nodded, confused. "What's wrong? You look as pale as a sheet."

"I just . . ." Jace breathed heavily, now aware that he was out of breath and that his heart was skittering at an irregular pace. "I had to get over here as soon as possible."

"Everything's fine." Jonathan reassured him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. He added with humor, "What, you don't trust me to do my job?"

"No, I trust you." Jace breathed, "I don't trust that Hodge, however, cares about getting caught anymore than a kamikaze would."

"You're saying . . . It's him? Hodge killed Aline?" Jonathan, now flustered, reached for the handle, "We have to-"

Jace grabbed his wrist. "Don't. We may be able to arrest him without Clary getting into any sort of danger."

Jonathan nodded and released it. "Alright. But we should definitely get him out of there immediately."

Jace nodded, fixing the lapels of his coat methodically, feeling that he was calm enough to face Hodge and Clary together. He pressed himself against the door first, gleaning any important information he could since soon he would be interrupting the private conversation.

"I don't believe that." Hodge was saying. "He's a complete lunatic."

Clary laughed, the sound faint through the door. "He's not a lunatic, I don't think. He's smart. Smarter than even you, perchance?"

Hodge snorted. "Hardly. That detective is as mad as they come." Jace's eyebrows lifted as he realized they were talking about him. "You know, he never admitted to it outright, but I could tell by his lustful eyes; he wanted you. Even when everyone thought you were dead. No one sane develops feelings for a corpse. And that's all you are to him. That detective is too insensitive and scarred from his work to feel any normal emotions. He probably developed some sort of sick fetish with dead bodies after his line of work."

Then it was silent. Jace held his breath, knowing full well how disturbing and creepy that statement sounded. "Well, I think it's . . . " Jace felt himself, along with Hodge, hang on every word. "Well it's a bit endearing isn't it? It was almost like he was waiting for me."

Jace smirked and Hodge sighed tiredly. "Clary, you seem to fall into the same trap time and time again. When a young, able bodied man comes by, you fall for his looks, even if the man's got the most rotten insides you've ever seen."

"Maybe that's true for Sebastian, but the others, like Simon, were genuinely good men that you drove away!" Clary moved farther away from the door, her voice sounding distant despite her angered tone. "and I'm not going to let anyone else hurt me again. Not even you."

"Me? _Hurt you?_ When have I ever done that?"

The detective backed away from the door and blushed at Jonathan's odd look. "Head downstairs and tail Hodge once he leaves. I want him watched as closely as possible."

"And what are you going to do in there?" Jonathan raised his eyebrow, smirking.

Jace rolled his eyes and shoved his partner down the hall. "Whatever I damn well please."

"Just remember to keep your pants on." Jonathan called over his shoulder.

"I doubt it would come to that." Jace muttered and turned the knob, taking a deep breath before pushing it wide open.

Clary, sitting underneath her portrait, jumped. For a moment, Jace revelled in her presence. Her head was still attached to her body, at least. her lower, alto voice, jumped higher in surprise. "Detective, I didn't know you were going to come tonight."

Hodge muttered something venomous under his breath, but did not acknowledge his presence other than a cold, fleeting glare. "I apologize for barging in unannounced. I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

Clary blushed and moved toward him, while Jace could see out of the corner of his eye Hodge rolling his. "I am safe with Hodge, thank you." she replied stonily, glancing at Starkweather.

No emotion passed over Hodge's rigid and tight expression. "Of course you are, my dear, but Detective Herondale obviously doesn't trust me."

"Only part of my job." Jace shrugged, leaning against the the arm of the couch. He pulled out his book, surprised that he was only to the end of Book the First. In most investigations, Jace could read to about the end of Tale of Two Cities.

Hodge sighed again. "It is unnecessary in this case, as I would never do anything to harm Clarissa."

Jace glanced up and frowned. "Are you sure?"

Hodge was taken back. "Excuse me?"

Jace averted his gaze back to his book, the black lines blurring together. His eyes may have been away from the older man, but in his peripheral vision, he saw Hodge's snarl twist unpleasantly and Clary's brow furrow.

"Maybe it would be best if . . . if you were to go home, Hodge." Clary walked to the older man's side, resting her hand on his arm.

Hodge's snarl turned to her now as he jerked away from her touch. "If you would prefer, then _of course_."

Clary watched, hurt, as Hodge stormed from the suite. She turned to Jace immediately once the door slammed shut and reprimanded him. "You know he isn't all bad. You really should try and be more delicate around him."

Jace brushed past her, snapping his book shut and crouching down to the clock near the door. There had to be some sort of button or other that opened the glass panel. "I'm not so sure, Clary."

"Jonathan. What are you doing?" Clary asked, sounding panicked as she crouched down next to him. "Jonathan?"

"It's Jace." he told her offhandedly, sliding his hand along the wooden sides, feeling for any bumps or ridges. "I prefer to be called by my nickname."

"Okay . . . Jace." she spoke carefully, placing her hand on him, gently moving his shoulder and attention to her. "Jace, what are you doing with my clock?"

"I'm investigating." Jace told her vaguely before tracing his fingers over a hinge connecting to the glass panel.

Clary sighed in exasperation and got to her feet. "Fine. Don't tell me."

"This clock was given to you by Hodge?" Jace could feel her presence behind him however, watching as he moved his hand over every inch of the clock.

"Yes, he gave it to me years ago."

He pressed down on the hinge and the glass panel popped open. He craned his neck around to ask her, "Did you know that your clock could do this?"

Her mouth was wide open. "I . . . no, I didn't. I didn't know that was there."

Jace took out his handkerchief from his suit pocket. "I'm assuming you didn't know this was in here either?" Jace covered his fingers with the cloth to preserve fingerprints and grabbed the gun out of the nook carefully.

Clary gasped, her hand covering her mouth and her eyes as large as saucers. She shook her head vigorously.

Jace, not at all surprised of her ignorance to the gun's hiding place, nodded. He snapped open the barrel. "It's still got one buckshot loaded." Jace noted before closing the barrel and putting it carefully back in the alcove. "The other Hodge used to shoot Aline Penhallow."

"I . . . I don't believe it." Clary stuttered. "How could he . . . why? Why would he do this? Does he really hate me that much?" her eyes glistened with unshed tears that she held back, biting her lip.

"He doesn't hate you." Jace replied awkwardly, not sure what to say to make her feel better. What could be said to cheer _anyone_ up when they find out that their closest friend and confidant is actually a murderer, who killed a girl because they thought it was you, the one they actually wanted to kill. Jace's brain hurt from just thinking about. "he hates me."

Clary forced out a choked laugh. "Oh, I know that. Trust me."

Jace got to his feet and turned himself to face her. "He hates the fact that Sebastian has been with you, and the fact that I could be with you." Jace grimaced at his lack of filter. Maybe she didn't notice. "He's a jealous, bitter old man who is well past his prime years, if he ever had them."

Clary snorted, leaning against the wall. Her eyes lost the wet glint and Jace took heart of that, at least.

"He believes himself to be inherently better than everyone else. I'm guessing he thinks this about you too."

"He . . . he's liked me all this time?"

"You're not at all observant to men's feelings about you, are you?" Jace smirked and shook his head. "I'm sure that his mindset that night was, if I can't have you, then no else will."

Clary didn't have much to say after that. She remained expressionless, staring at the edge of the rug her toe moved. "He hated Sebastian all that time. I just thought he was being protective, like an older brother or something." she finally said.

"He's selfish. If he's not happy, then you can't be either."

Clary rubbed her forehead. "I can't believe I was just talking to him ten minutes ago." her eyes grew wider and more horrified as she remembered. "He acted as if we were _fine_. He's been acting like he's been my friend this entire time! He's even got the gall to have whispered to me that I can't trust anyone else."

Jace wasn't sure what he could say. He didn't want to get her unreasonably mad, but as he watched her, he could tell that just thinking about Hodge's lies of the past month was sickening her. "I don't understand. He just barely lied to the both of us that he would 'never cause me any harm.' I just can't believe he's kept this act up the entire time. How can he lie everyday and look at me?"

Jace wasn't sure how one could even try to hurt someone as kind and generous as Clary Fairchild. "He's a psychopath. He doesn't feel any guilt about killing Aline, and he might just try it again."

"You think he'll . . . he'll try to finish the job?" Clary bit her lip, Her green eyes widened, and Jace could tell that she was trying her hardest to not be scared.

Jace took her clenched fists into his. "I think that he will, yes."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, interlacing her fingers with his. "I'm so grateful," Clary looked up at him, "for everything you've done for me."

"You deserve to be treated as fairly as anyone else." Jace shrugged, feeling the need to downplay what he'd done for her for some reason.

"I've never felt so safe before and I've only made it difficult for you to protect me."

"I'll admit the first morning was a bit frustrating, but you're smart and I know you can handle yourself." Jace felt himself move closer to her, giving her hands a light squeeze.

Clary looked up at him, blushing. "What are your suggestions to forgetting about this then?"

Jace blinked and watched as she licked her bottom lip. "Sleep it off like a bad dream." His stomach fluttered as she smiled.

"You make it sound easy."

Jace leaned even closer to her, his heart racing faster than it had before he had come into her Suite. "Distractions always make it easier."

Clary smirked, raising her eyebrows at him. Her lips were a breath away from his and Jace was straining all of his will to not attack her. "Do you know of anything I could do to divert my attention then?"

"I have a couple ideas." Jace was surprised at well how he was keeping his cool when he felt their hands break and watched as Clary used hers to pull him against her.

Jace's brain was probably melting as it took him several seconds to realize Clary's lips were on his. Once he had registered this, however, he wasted no more time in responding. One hand smoothed itself from her cheek into her hair, while the other gripped around her waist.

His blood ignited as she moved her hands quickly to remove his coat from his shoulders. It fell to the floor and Jace appreciated the removed barrier. She smoothed her palms down his chest and simultaneously slipped her tongue into his mouth. Jace held back an embarrassing noise at the sensations that were making his toes curl and moved his lips off of hers, traveling unbearably slow down her neck.

Clary swayed in his arms and so Jace tightened his grip, leaving a trail of kisses up. He delicately pressed his lips against the shell of her ear and smirked as she shuddered against him, gripping his hair tightly and sighing.

He moved his lips slowly down her neck again before his face was grabbed and crushed against hers. Jace gasped into her mouth as she almost slammed him into the door. She gripped his shirt tightly, pressing them together impossibly closer than before. His head felt like it might float off of his shoulders and his heart beat faster than it had ever before.

Her hands explored his chest, making it even more difficult to concentrate on his next task on hand. Which happened to be very important and had to be handled very soon. The more time between Hodge's arrest and Jace's leaving time was miles for him to escape. Jace, with all his willpower, tore his lips away from Clary's.

She leaned into him,smiling shyly but happily. "Can you stay longer?"

Jace nearly groaned. "As tempting as that idea truly is, I need to lock up Hodge before he can do anything else to try and hurt you. Tonight."

Clary shrugged, cheeks tinged red at embarrassment at being rejected, or from kissing him. Jace hoped it was the latter. "Yeah, of course," her head bowed, her green eyes hidden by her hair, " You should catch him."

Jace stepped away from her then and picked up his discarded coat, because he couldn't imagine anything else but taking hold of her and kissing her until it was light out. "I should probably go then."

She nodded a lot, sweeping her hair behind her shoulders. "Yeah probably." Jace took his cue to leave when she stopped him. "Wait . . . the offer still stands . . . you know, if and when you're not busy . . . catching bad guys and stuff."

Jace turned around, trying to hide a smile at Clary's timid pose. She stood alone in the doorway, still in her party dress, her shoulders drawn in and hunched. She smiled at him and shook her head, her smile growing wider by the second.

"Okay you really should leave before I don't let you."

"Alright, I'm going." he chuckled and turned to leave, before adding, "and I will catch him for you. He's not going to try anything ever again."

She walked up to him and began closing the door. She leaned against it lightly tilting her head. "Thank you, Jace. For everything."

Jace, unable to resist, captured one last, short kiss for the evening before she closed the door.

* * *

The walk down to the lobby was a blur. He was sure that the elevator attendant was giving him odd looks, but he didn't pay her any attention. The lobby was completely empty, which Jace swept through quickly, able to think of only one thing. His lips still tingled from the pressure, and Jace was sure that his face remained flushed and red.

He went through the glass doors only to stop abruptly. Sitting still in his car, Jace's partner Jonathan, remained on the curb, cigarette smoke seeping through the open windows.

"Jonathan!" the detective looked up at Jace, startled. "What are you still doing here?"

Jonathan got of the car, his brow crinkled in confusion."What do you mean? You told me to follow Hodge once he got out."

"Yeah, and he left about 15 minutes ago! Why weren't you paying attention?" Jace shouted at him. "He could be anywhere right now! I can't _believe_ you lost him!"

"First of all Jace, I know how to do my job correctly and not screw up." his voice was low but very pissed off, "He hasn't come out of the hotel yet. Trust me, I haven't seen him."

Jace shook his head. "That doesn't make sense! I was alone with Clarissa for about 20 minutes after he had left."

Jonathan's eyes widened. "Did the girl lock her door?"

Jace shrugged, not understanding. "I think so. Why does it matter?"

"It matters because Hodge is _still_ in that building with her. He hasn't left."

Jace swore, joining Jonathan as they bolted up the stairs, running like her life depended on it, which, in fact, really did.

**Okay! One last chapter left! I am working now, but only working about 10 hours next week, so I should find a lot of time to finish chapter 29! WOOT! Thanks to all who have kept with this to the end! I'm really proud of it and the progression I've accomplished! I'm hoping that I can work on some WIPS once this is over and can post some of those on here! Love you all! Please review it gives me life!**

**-Lau**


	29. The Situation of the Murderer

**Holy crap guys this is short. But I didn't feel inspired to write anything else really. Go ahead and read the showdown though! Please enjoy and review!**

**Warning: this entire chapter is darker than the rest of the story. It's got some disturbing thoughts via Hodge's mind, plus a lot of violence. Nothing really explicit though, so don't go into this thinking I'm about to inform you about the insides of the human body that you never really wanted to know. It's not even that bad. Okay I'm not sure why I'm even putting this warning here at all. Nevertheless, here be your warning.**

**Guest329: Your review made me so happy to read thank you so much for your wonderful comments. Please enjoy this last chapter! **

**Rebel Jaguar: hahaha i updated as soon as i possibly could! Enjoy yourself! **

**-Lau**

**Hodge**

It was too easy.

Hodge crept up the staircase once he had heard the idiot detective leave on the elevator. Honestly, all the modern inventions nowadays really handicapped the youth of this age. Hodge saved the topic for a later article to write about. The detective hadn't even checked the stairway, and Hodge decided he probably had no idea that the stairs were an option.

Hodge slowly crept down the hallway, feeling the weight of the two bullets in his pocket and the heaviness in his head. The door at the end of the hall came up and Hodge took a breath. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced. The rushing of his blood into his head made him feel off balanced and light, like he was about to float off somewhere a million miles away.

Hodge paused for a moment and tried to decipher if he was feeling anything at all, or if he had just eaten something bad for dinner. As his stomach twisted again, Hodge decided that it was none of the so called signs of guilt or nervousness, but just indigestion from the fried fish skillet he'd had just a few hours before. Damned cook. He would have to send in a negative review within his next article.

Hodge grabbed the doorknob, smirking when it turned clockwise without a budge. That detective was so arrogant, he could hardly protect a victim who had already supposedly died from dying again through a simple door lock. Not that the door being locked would've prevented Hodge from getting inside the suite. Maybe an added minute to the process, but nothing that would majorly apprehend him.

The door opened quietly, without a squeak. He closed the door then, turning the deadbolt clockwise. Hodge immediately crouched down to the clock, feeling his weak knees protest. He slowly, carefully, opened the walnut door and pressed the hinge that popped open the glass sheet. He carefully pulled out the gun and opened the barrel, replacing the bullets and filled it, wincing when it made a sharp metallic noise.

Hodge surveyed the suite, holding his breath as he waited to make sure Clarissa hadn't heard anything. The door that led to her bedroom and bathroom had light pouring out of it in a yellow wedge on the carpet. He could hear her moving around as she got ready to sleep. Hodge felt no pleasure in making it permanent. However, he did not regret what was about to happen. He could not let her make anymore life damaging mistakes if he had anything to say about it. Her heart was wild and dangerous to the rest of her health.

He would have to end it now, before she could fall any further. That detective would be the worst to handle by far. It seemed that the older Clarissa got, the more adolescent her choices became. First the odd fling with Simon the painter, and then the year long affair with the witless wonder Sebastian Verlac, and now the disturbing and lustful Jonathan Herondale.

Hodge remembered fully the delicate flower he had met and how he promised himself he would help her grow. Now she was wilted and used, touched and trampled upon, and there was nothing Hodge could do anymore that could save her. So he would have to kill her himself.

As he crept closer to the door, he could hear her humming one of her favorite songs, and then he could see her brushing through her red hair. She wore a black, lacy robe that revealed most of her body. Hodge did not stare, however. He felt sickened by the image. She had been desecrated by Sebastian, and now by that idiot. He would never be able to find it in himself to touch her intimately.

It was why he had the gun in his hand; stabbing would mean too much physical contact. He raised his hand to knock on the open door; she was obviously defenseless and wouldn't be able to do anything anyways. So he knocked.

She jumped a little, but did not turn to look behind her. She was smirking, putting down her brush carefully onto her vanity. "Back so soon, Jace?"

And Hodge understood suddenly why she had on that lingerie. She was waiting up for the detective to come back around. It made it so much easier for Hodge to stop her now, before she could ruin herself further. "I'm so sorry." Hodge said in the quiet room.

Clarissa looked like she almost jumped out of her own skin. She sprang from the chair, her large emerald eyes wide and terrified as she stared at the gun still in Hodge's hand. "You don't have to do this." she said so quietly, Hodge had to strain his ears to hear her.

"I'm sorry I could not make you love me. And I'm sorry that you have made the decisions that inevitably led to this."

"You're not making any sense, Hodge." she was pleading for her life now, Hodge watched, as she came closer to him, her eyes looking innocent and scared. "You don't have to kill anyone._ Please _ put the gun down."

Hodge didn't waver at all as he pressed the butt of the gun into the crook of his shoulder and aimed. If he hit her head straight on, it would be an instant and merciful death. He looked up for a moment, staring as tears streamed down her face. He felt suddenly very powerful and he took a few seconds to revel in it. Her life was literally in his hands and she was at his mercy if she was allowed to take another breath or not. Finally, a time when he could _fully _control her, and not just advize her. She was trembling, but Hodge was glad that she wasn't running. She was at least smart enough to not do that. It would be alright, though. Soon the tears would stop and be gone, along with most of her beautiful face.

He aimed again, the moment over and squeezed the trigger. He looked up, enjoying this experience much more than last time. Before in the dark room, it had been more of a hit and run sort of murder. Now it would be a story he would be proud to be connected to.

He watched as Clarissa wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She was no longer trembling ethier, and Hodge realized a moment too late what was about to happen.

He quickly pulled the trigger, but it was too late, for her hand had already grabbed the barrel of the gun and yanked it upward, the bullet imbedding itself into the ceiling. He swore, dropping the gun and yanking back the leaping girl in his arms. Her fists beat his chest, his face. Hodge pulled her down to the floor and felt sorry for her that it had to end like this. He climbed on top of her writhing body and placed his hands around her neck squeezing. She stopped her moving for a moment, shocked, her eyes bugging out.

But only for a moment. Clarissa was back at the writhing and wriggling. She grabbed onto his arms, and for a moment, his own neck and tried squeezing. Hodge shook his neck, snarling and leaned from his knees to squeeze even harder. Clarissa was shaking and turning paler than a sheet as her hands moved uselessly to try and apprehend him.

It wasn't until the sound of someone beating on the door did Hodge avert his focus. And even though it was only a short second, it was long enough for Clarissa to hear it too. With new fervor, she plunged her thumbs into his eye sockets, Hodge crying out in pain. His hold weakened and suddenly she was out of his grip and crawling out from under his legs.

"Clary!" they both could hear the detective yelling out the pathetic nickname he had obviously given her.

Hodge's heart beat increased at the thought of not finishing his work as he yanked at Clarissa's ankle, pulling her toward him. She lifted her leg and in turn gave a solid kick to his jaw. Hodge fell backwards and blinked, his eyes stinging and now the entire bottom half of his face sore and throbbing. Clarissa was already halfway to the door by the time Hodge got up and was grabbing for his gun.

He was moving towards Clarissa as he set it against his shoulder, ready this time for it to be quick and over with when the door flung open, the lock broken and wooden splinters flying everywhere. Hodge pulled the trigger and stumbled at the sound of multiple shots It was ringing in his ears and suddenly he felt his clothes getting very wet.

Looking down at his chest, Hodge stared as red blood bloomed from the bullet now inside of him. He touched his drenched shirt, confused, until he looked up. The detective's partner was holding a pistol, the barrel smoking. In Herondale's arms, Clarissa clung to him, shoving her face into his chest. A protective hand held her against him.

Hodge fell to his knees, the pain throbbing away at his chest, making it more and more difficult to breath. Meanwhile, more blood poured from the wound and wet Hodge's hand that tried to apply pressure. He felt tired doing that however, and reached towards Clarissa instead, hoping that she would help him. _It wasn't supposed to be like this. It shouldn't have ended this way. _Hodge opened his mouth to say just that, but blood instead dribbled down his chin, his words spluttering and garbled.

She stared at Hodge, her eyes bloodshot from the broken blood vessels that he had popped when he was choking her, and the bruises of his hands around her neck were red and swollen, already turning purple. And he knew then, that she wasn't going to even going to try. Black spots filled his eyes and he fell onto his back, his head light and heavy all at the same time.

_So this is what it feels like to die._

Hodge blinked at the ceiling, part of it shattered from his missed bullet. His shot had lost its aim once the bullet made impact into his chest. He'd failed. He took a shuddering breath, feeling his body collapse on itself and end. He had only brought the couple together, Hodge realized now. Maybe if he hadn't tried to kill her, it would've been different. _She _would've been different.

Hodge's final breath was then released; he no longer felt anything but coldness and a numbing sensation, spreading from his chest and down to his toes, all the way to his brain. "Clarissa." he had whispered on that dying exhale, blackness filling his vision even though his eyes remained open.

**Wowzer guys I'm done! I really appreciate those who have supported me and pushed me to finish and end those long hiatus'. I really really loved writing in this genre, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. I'm not going to do an epilogue because I think the ending is a bit self explanatory. If anyone wants me to tell them what happens to the rest of the characters that didn't die, just ask in the review. **

**Because please please please review! If you've made it this far with me, why not just add a comment on what you enjoyed, what you wished happened, if your theory was correct, things you think could've been better. **

**Literally anything! I thrive on negative (as long as it is helpful criticism) and positive feedback. I just like hearing from you!**

**Also, I'll be updating Stele Arts Academy hopefully sometime this summer for anyone who has read that. And there are 2 WIPs that have about 50 pages each on my google docs right now. So you can expect those at some point too! Love you all for coming with this far and really appreciate this experience.**

**-Lau **


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